Creating a Niche
by MagicSwede1965
Summary: Leslie drags Michiko into the midst of a group of fantasies, while the girls finally discover what the problem is with Tabitha and a very angry young princess arrives on the island. Second in the "Niches" story arc
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **_Moving along with the storyline...thanks to everyone who reviewed the last story, I truly appreciate your feedback! It feels pretty good to be back at the keyboard again after so long. :)_

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><p>§ § § - August 23, 2008<p>

Leslie crossed the porch at a half-run, having rung the tower bell using Lawrence's old button as she had for so many years now, and met her adoptive father at the top of the steps. "Good morning, Father."

"Ah, good morning, Leslie. Have you made all the proper preparations?" inquired Roarke, looking at her expectantly.

"So far as I know," said Leslie. "What happens next is up to Michiko, though. She seemed to be in a pretty good mood when I talked to her last night, and she said she'd meet us here at the main house at exactly eight-thirty." This was early, even before the guests were scheduled for their initial appointments with Roarke to discuss their fantasies. Leslie wanted to be sure her friend wouldn't have a chance to back out.

Roarke paused long enough to stare at her with something that looked like reproach, and she felt herself heat up with some trepidation. "By all means, let us hope she agrees to cooperate with us." He gestured toward the rover that was just pulling up, with none other than Camille's firstborn, David Omamara, at the wheel. Roarke had decided to hire him to drive him and Leslie to the plane dock every Saturday morning, and it was his first weekend doing this. "We'd better hurry so that we ourselves aren't late."

David beamed at them as they settled into their accustomed seats. "Hi, Mr. Roarke and Miss Leslie! Ready?"

"Indeed," said Roarke. "Let's go." Grinning maniacally, David sent the car forward, and Leslie tried to hide a smile, imagining what she'd tell Camille later. David never lost the huge, proud grin all the way to the plane dock; by the time Roarke and Leslie stepped out of the car, even Roarke himself was chuckling softly with private amusement at the young man.

"I'll have to tell Camille," Leslie remarked, watching David pilot the car around the little dirt access road that described a loop off the Ring Road and back again. "She'll love it."

"Worry first about what you'll tell Michiko," Roarke suggested in gentle warning, sobering both of them. "Since this weekend we are granting three fantasies, all of the same stripe; and since you are the one who chose the beneficiaries of our services, perhaps you would do the honor of explaining their identities and individual wishes to me, for a change."

Leslie glanced around the clearing and realized everyone was in place and awaiting the signal; she nodded toward the band, which immediately struck up its weekly welcoming ditty. The band's commencement of action put everyone else in motion as well; Roarke and Leslie took their usual places while the attendants pulled open the plane's hatch and reached in to assist an apprehensive-looking young woman dressed in a lacy white tank top and a very colorful wraparound skirt that fell almost to her ankles. "That would be Diana Lind," Leslie said, thinking back to the vivid self-descriptions all three of her choices for the weekend had provided in their letters. "Twenty-eight years old and hailing from Arcadia, California. She's here for her tenth high-school reunion and wants to impress her former classmates."

"By singing?" prompted Roarke.

"Right," said Leslie. "She said in her initial letter that she's sung all her life, with every kind of song imaginable - rock, pop, country, easy listening, grunge, you name it. Her favorite is show tunes. Unfortunately, she's never had an audience, because she does all her singing in the shower or in the car by herself."

Roarke nodded. "And what of this young man?"

Leslie shifted her attention to the tall, slim, blond man in uniform just climbing onto the dock as Diana Lind put foot on terra firma. "Major Gary Patterson, forty-one years old, originally from Ste. Genevieve, Missouri, currently stationed at Tinker Air Force Base in Oklahoma. Since he was a kid, he's been a huge country music fan, and now he wants to fulfill a fantasy to be a country idol, just for this weekend. Seems he's been told a few times that he has a pretty good voice, even though he's been heard only through singing along with his favorite country stars."

Roarke slanted her a look she couldn't read. _Don't ever think Father would doubt anyone in this entire enterprise,_ Leslie thought drolly, _except maybe you._ Taking a deep breath, she focused her attention on the final guest, a slender, fine-boned, dark-complexioned woman dressed as if for a job interview with an extremely formal and wealthy corporation. "And that's Georgiana Willingham, age thirty-seven, very proper and well-brought-up heiress to a pretty hefty fortune, from Chicago. Her secret fantasy is to be a rock chick and live a life as far away from her own real one as she can possibly get. She's never sung a note in her life."

Roarke eyed her askance, but she knew him well enough to see amusement lurking in those dark eyes. "Dare I suggest that the amount Ms. Willingham offered for said fantasy may have influenced your choice?"

Leslie threw him a genuinely hurt look. "Oh, really, Father. Who do you think I am anyway - Tattoo?"

Roarke let out a laugh just as a native girl presented him with his champagne flute, and he raised it to the new arrivals in his weekly greeting. All three of them looked excited and hopeful, and Leslie mentally crossed her fingers that Michiko would find their dreams as intriguing as she herself did.

‡ ‡ ‡

Leslie was deeply relieved to see Michiko sitting in front of Roarke's desk when she and her father arrived at the main house; that relief came out in a wide smile. "Hi, Michiko, good to see you," she said.

Michiko smiled. "It's a little earlier than I'd like, but here I am anyway. So are you finally going to tell me exactly what I'm doing here on a Saturday morning?"

Leslie sat down in the other chair while Roarke settled behind the desk and watched with interest he didn't bother concealing. "Well," she said, "how would you like to be intimately involved with some fantasies this weekend?"

Michiko blinked at her three or four times, then turned to Roarke. "Is this a joke?"

Roarke smiled broadly and assured her, "Indeed not, Michiko. We do in fact need your assistance, if of course you're willing to provide it. We are granting three separate fantasies this weekend, and as it happens, all three of them are very similar, thus all three will require your expertise."

"Or at least your expert opinion," Leslie added.

"On what?" Michiko prodded. It was plain from her tone that she was beginning to lose her patience.

Leslie looked at Roarke, who nodded at her once; she drew in a fortifying breath and turned to her friend. "They all have fantasies that have to do with singing - one in rock, one in country and the other one for show tunes."

Michiko frowned. "Well, either they can sing or they can't. There's nothing I can do about it." She let her gaze slide to Roarke. "Maybe you can change that for a weekend, but that's nothing to do with me. So why would you need me?"

"Because you're the professional," Leslie said. "I mean, sure, I can carry a tune if my voice is cooperating with me, but you're the one who used to make a living with your voice. We'd like to hear your evaluation as to whether you think these fantasies are worth granting."

Michiko eyed her skeptically; even Roarke looked a little dubious. "Leslie," he said in gentle reproval.

"Well, she is," Leslie insisted, feeling helpless.

Michiko shook her head. "Will someone please come clean to me about this?"

Roarke smiled and finally, to Leslie's relief, relented. "It's entirely possible that we may have a hidden gem among our three aspiring singers. Perhaps you would be willing to involve yourself in their fantasies and help them to gain a little confidence so that they can make a success of said fantasies." At that moment there came a knock on the door, and Leslie instantly jumped to her feet and admitted their first guest, Diana Lind. Roarke arose, and Michiko twisted around in her seat to watch while Leslie led the newcomer into the room and gestured at the chair she had just vacated.

"Ah, Ms. Lind, thank you for coming so promptly," Roarke said with a warm smile.

Diana grinned, her face acquiring a pink, sheepish look. "That's a nice way of telling me I'm too early, but thanks." They all chuckled.

Roarke sat back while Leslie pulled the computer chair over to the desk. Michiko shifted in her own chair, but there was no mistaking the intense interest in her dark-brown eyes, and when Roarke spoke, she unconsciously leaned forward a little as if that would help her hear better. "Ms. Lind," Roarke said, "it's my understanding that your tenth high-school class reunion is being held here this weekend."

She nodded."Yup, and unfortunately I haven't done anything worth noting since graduation. Oh, sure, I went to college and I have a pretty decent job and a nice apartment...but ever since I joined Facebook and have gotten back in touch with a bunch of my classmates, I've been a little amazed at how many of them are making huge successes of themselves. Four of them are interning in hospitals up and down the West Coast, a couple of others just passed the California bar, one's got his own business and it's thriving, and a whole group of them seem to be making a cushy living working for Silicon Valley companies."

"What do you do?" Leslie asked.

Diana shrugged. "I'm an administrative assistant," she said in a self-deprecating tone. "I've had the same job since I graduated from college, and I like it fine...it's just my pace, and the people I work with are really nice and we all know each other since it's not a big firm. But it's just not very glamorous or impressive." She looked up, her glance bouncing across Leslie before settling on Roarke. "I guess I just want to be noticed and not fade into the background at the reunion."

Roarke's tone was quizzical: "And you believe you can do that by singing? Even though, as I understand it, you have never sung in public in all your life?"

Diana blushed. "Well...there're so many doctors and lawyers and tech-geek brains in my class, I guess I just...I mean, I feel like I have to stand out."

Leslie smiled and said gently, "Well, in your letter you said you've only ever sung in the shower or alone in your car. That suggests to me that nobody's ever heard you sing, so there's no way to know whether you're any good."

"I always thought I was okay," Diana mumbled, hunching her shoulders. "But I guess that could be just personal vanity talking."

Leslie grinned. "Well, that's easily fixed. Ms. Diana Lind, meet my dear friend, Michiko Tokita." She gestured to Michiko; Diana turned to look and gasped loudly.

"You're one of my favorite performers to sing with!" she cried. "I have all your albums, and I play them all the time, especially in the car when I'm going back and forth to work. See, I work in Rancho Cucamonga, and getting there and back on the 210 can be pretty hairy, not to mention boring...so I keep your CDs in my car, and I just pop one in and belt away. It's the best way on earth to kill commuting time."

Michiko blinked at her in sheer astonishment; Leslie wondered if that had anything to do with the fact that Diana didn't seem to care that Michiko had spent much longer being the queen of Arcolos than she had being a Broadway-show singer. But Michiko's discombobulation lasted only a second or two, as her pretty elfin face broke into a wide grin and she shook hands with Diana. "It's nice to hear that somebody still listens to my music."

"You will sing for Miss Tokita first," Roarke informed Diana. "As a part of your fantasy, she will evaluate your voice and your ability to see whether you truly have what it takes to impress all your classmates. She will then report back to me, and we will further discuss your fantasy."

"Wow," Diana gasped. "This is _amazing_...I never thought I'd get to meet one of my favorite singers while I was having this fantasy granted. Mr. Roarke, you're incredible - thanks so, so much! This really will be a dream come true! What time do I sing for you?"

Roarke consulted his gold pocket watch. "I believe eleven o'clock will be fine, if that will work for you." He addressed this last to Michiko, who nodded.

Diana thanked them again and left, walking backwards because she was still gushing with excitement; when she was finally gone, Michiko gave Roarke and Leslie a hard look. "You didn't tell me I was going to be playing voice coach."

"You're not," said Leslie. "You're just seeing whether she's any good. Same with our other two guests. Come on, Michiko, you were the one who wanted to find something to do. And now that you've got poor Diana Lind so excited, you can't back out on us. It'd be really, really rude."

Roarke smiled, almost apologetically, and concurred, "Yes, I must agree, it would be in rather poor taste, don't you think?"

Michiko screwed up her delicate features and aimed a glare at Leslie through slitted eyes. "I don't know whether I'm going to forgive you for this or not, but in the interests of business and propriety, I'll do it. I reserve judgment on whether I like it, though."

Leslie grinned with relief and said, "That's up to you. Thanks for stepping up to bat for us." She would have said more, but the inner-foyer door opened and admitted Major Gary Patterson, still nattily decked out in his Air Force uniform, complete with cap, and looking as fresh as if he had just showered and shaved. Leslie gestured him in as he peered into the study from the top of the steps. "Come in, Major."

"Please have a seat, won't you?" Roarke invited, and Major Patterson smiled his thanks and filled the chair Diana Lind had just vacated. "Major Gary Patterson, welcome; is there anything we can get you?"

"No, no thanks, Mr. Roarke," Major Patterson replied, taking in Leslie in the computer chair and then Michiko in the chair beside him. He blinked and grinned, looking slightly ill at ease. "Wow, I'm in a roomful of celebrities. Do I need to defer to your royal titles?"

"No, not at all," Leslie assured him. "Titles don't mean too much here - that's why my husband so enjoys living here." They all laughed. "I'm just Leslie, and let me introduce my dearest friend, Michiko Tokita."

"Yeah...the singer and the dowager queen," Major Patterson blurted. Michiko winced just noticeably, and he reddened and cleared his throat. "Well, I mean, former queen, I guess. I'm sorry, I don't really know how that works."

Michiko grinned, her good nature apparently restored, to Leslie's relief. "I'm simply Michiko, that's all. I'm a little young to be a dowager." Again they laughed. "So anyway, I'm told you have a fantasy about singing."

Major Patterson managed to look even more sheepish. "Yeah, it's pretty crazy, huh? A guy with a solid Air Force career, a wife and a couple kids, earthbound except when he's in the cockpit - I always wanted to fly, and I still love it - sounds a little goofy when you think about it, me having this secret thing about singing country songs. But I grew up on that kind of music, and I've been told my voice isn't too bad. I guess what I want to do this weekend is find out if I've got what it would take to be a country hunk."

"Would that translate into a permanent career change?" Roarke inquired.

Major Patterson laughed. "I doubt that," he said cheerfully. "I'm just kinda thinking, what would it be like if I could be a big country star just for the weekend? Just to live out a crazy dream, you know, before I go back to my real life."

"Are you on just a three-day pass or something?" Michiko asked.

"I got leave for a week because of the travel time involved in coming here," Major Patterson explained. "It started Thursday and I have to be back on base by eighteen hundred next Wednesday. So I guess it's a seven-day pass in this case." He looked at Roarke. "I, uh...well, I just mentioned I've been told I have a good voice, but it's occurred to me more than once that it could just be people being polite, or deferring to my rank, or something. Can you still grant my fantasy if I turn out to really suck?"

Leslie and Michiko tried not to laugh, but neither Roarke nor Patterson missed the looks they exchanged, and Patterson broke into another sheepish grin while Roarke chuckled. "Indeed I can, Major, if that is what you wish. After all, it's your fantasy, and that's the business I am in. A fine enterprise it would be if I could not provide what my guests ask for!"

Major Patterson laughed. "Yeah, I guess you're right. So what happens next, then?"

"Miss Tokita here will listen to you sing, both with and without your country performer of choice to sing along with," Roarke explained. "She will then report back to me, and we will do whatever is necessary from that point to see to it that you have your fantasy."

"Roger that," said Patterson, looking delighted. "Can't wait to get started. What time?"

"Eleven-thirty should work," said Leslie. "So that'll give you some time to get settled in and relax before you go for your, um, audition."

"Well, okay then. Thanks so much, all of you." Major Patterson shook hands all around and then departed, whistling as he left.

"Still want to back out?" Leslie teased her friend.

Before Michiko could reply, there was yet another knock, and Roarke called, "Come in." The door opened, and in stepped Georgiana Willingham, looking very demure and businesslike in an extremely expensive jacket, blouse and skirt ensemble, with her hair pulled severely back and fastened to the back of her head in a subdued French twist. She was the picture of dignity and decorum, and walked with a practiced grace, as if negotiating a balance beam without conscious thought. Roarke arose once more, and she favored him and then the two girls with a formal nod before accepting his invitation to take a seat.

"Ms. Willingham," Roarke said with a nod. "May we bring you anything?"

"No, no thank you...I had more than enough when I first arrived," she responded, and Leslie stifled a smile, remembering the enormous bowl-shaped glass their latest guest had chosen from the assortment at the plane dock. Georgiana Willingham arose enough to give Leslie a shallow curtsy and Michiko a deeper one, addressing them formally as "Your Highness" and "Your Majesty" in respectful murmurs, before resuming her seat and smoothing out her skirt. Then she speared Roarke with a look, leaned forward and asked eagerly, "So when does my fantasy start? I've been just about sick with excitement all the way here, and now that I'm actually on this island, I can't wait!"

Michiko giggled, unable to help herself, and Leslie let her grin have its way. Even Roarke smiled. "Ah, an enthusiastic customer. We always find that gratifying." He sat back. "If you would, please, kindly fill me in a little more on your fantasy."

"I'm the daughter of Raymond Willingham and the niece of Charles, Joseph and Arthur Willingham," she said, "of Willingham Enterprises - the Chicago conglomerate that already owns nearly three hundred banks around the United States and is constantly looking to swallow up more. Mergers, takeovers, buyouts...and endless meetings about everything under the sun. That's the life my father and my uncles carved out for themselves, and they've made a thriving industry out of it. Most of my cousins have gone into the business, and so have both my brothers." She sighed. "And yeah, okay, so did I. I suppose we didn't have a whole lot of choice."

"Come again?" Leslie asked, surprised. "This is the twenty-first century; nobody can force you into anything, even if you're a female - not anymore."

"They can if you're a Willingham," said Georgiana darkly. "Quite a bit of noise was made about withholding of inheritances and cutoff of monthly allowances unless we followed in our fathers' footsteps." She cleared her throat. "I must admit, I'm too accustomed to a certain kind of lifestyle to buck the system, so I went along with it. And most of the time it's not so bad. But I always had this secret dream. I mean, it took me a while to come up with it. I started out wondering what's the farthest possible thing from finance and retirement planning and meetings out the yin-yang? I must have pondered it for months before it finally occurred to me: a _rock chick!" _Georgiana's features grew animated with excitement."Decked out in black leather and studs, wearing dog collars and chains, smashing electric guitars and chain-smoking cigarettes, and with an attitude that'd make Rambo cringe. I could just see me now, strutting across a stage and giving all the guys hell on wheels. It's so totally different from my real life, that the more I thought about it, the more I wanted to do it."

"Until now," said Leslie.

"Yep. It took me this long to clear out my insane work schedule. I finally managed to talk my father into letting me go by telling him I hadn't had a real vacation in four years - which is true - and then getting out the door the moment he gave his grudging approval." She sighed. "I plan to enjoy every stolen second of this. So when can I start, Mr. Roarke?"

Roarke chuckled. "Would now suffice?" At Georgiana's thrilled expression, he nodded. "I thought so. First of all, when you return to your bungalow, you'll find precisely the sort of, uh, 'rock-chick' attire you so vividly described just now. And at exactly noon, Miss Tokita will see you to evaluate your voice and decide whether you have what it takes to pull off the persona you wish to assume for the weekend."

Georgiana bit her lip. "Oh boy." She looked at Michiko with some trepidation. "You might as well know now, I've never sung a note in my life. I don't even know if I can carry a tune. The thing is, I never really thought about it. A rock chick screams out her songs, or she growls them - she doesn't actually sing. I figured no matter what I sounded like, I'd be able to get away with it."

Michiko snickered. "Well, even the heavy-metal types do have to have some kind of musical talent. That even goes for those howling singers - the howls do have to be on key." She tilted her head at Georgiana. "Rock chicks and heavy metal are sort of passé these days anyway. All the attitude has been usurped by the rappers, especially the hard-core ones."

Georgiana made a revolted face. "Sorry, but I absolutely hate rap," she said. "That's too much rebellion. No, I'd rather be a rock chick. Can you do it?"

_"I _can't do it," Michiko said, grinning. "All I do is figure out whether your voice can handle it for a weekend. If anything has to be done, it's up to Mr. Roarke to do it."

Roarke smiled at that. "And yes, we can do it," he said. "I must warn you, Ms. Willingham, you may find that the life of the, uh, rock chick may differ quite drastically from what you have imagined it to be all these years."

"I don't care," said Georgiana, "just as long as it's different from my real life. Thanks so much, Mr. Roarke. I'm going to really let my hair down this weekend, and I can't wait!" Beaming, she scuttled out of the house, an absurd gait in the staid pumps she was wearing.

"Literally, I think," remarked Michiko in response to Georgiana's parting remark, and they laughed. "Okay, Leslie, I admit it: you've sold me. Where do I conduct my, um...auditions?"


	2. Chapter 2

§ § § - August 23, 2008

The little recording studio in town, located in a small, unprepossessing storefront between the theater and the jewelry shop, saw more use than Michiko had realized, as she discovered when Leslie took her over there and checked its schedule for the weekend. "Okay, you're fine till three this afternoon," she mused, scanning a page. "Then we've got a rock band coming in to record a track for their latest album. I don't think it's going to take you that long to assess these folks, though." She looked up at her friend with a grin, and Michiko chuckled.

"I doubt it," she said. "Actually, I'm surprised. I didn't know this studio got so much business."

"Yeah, it gets its share," Leslie said. "At least, it pays for itself." She shrugged and put down the book on the empty receptionist's desk. "The place'll be bustling by two though, since the staff has to come back and get things ready for that recording session. Meantime, Diana Lind should be in any minute, so just relax and take your time, and give me a call when you're ready and I'll come pick you up."

"Why, where're you going?" Michiko asked.

"I'll hang out at Christian's office," Leslie said with a wink that made her friend roll her eyes playfully. "Have fun, and see you later on."

Leaving Michiko behind, she headed for Christian's storefront; she could see him at his desk inside, peering intently into a computer tower, and grinned as she came in and settled into the chair beside the work arm of his desk. "Working hard?"

Christian looked up, grunted and shook his head. "The person who brought this thing in said there was a bug in it - a _literal _bug. I don't know whether to take this apart in the middle of the town square and try to let it out that way, or just remove this thing's guts and coat it with insecticide."

Leslie giggled. "Did they say what kind of bug?"

"Of course not. I suspect it's large, though, because the owner stayed barely long enough to explain the problem and then fled as though the place were on fire. Tell me, my Rose, is your father in? I need to ask him some questions about the creepier fauna on this island."

Laughing, Leslie nodded and settled back as Christian reached for the phone and dialed the main house. Julianne was out, but Jonathan was there, flinging frequent looks in the direction of Christian's desk. Catching Leslie watching him, he sat up. "Hey, Miss Leslie, I know this is kinda silly-sounding, but my sister was just in here about ten minutes ago, asking Boss Prince there how busy you were today. I thought you'd be in the middle of fantasy-granting."

"I've done all I can do for the moment," Leslie said. "It's in other hands right now. Where'd Camille go after she left?"

"Said she had some groceries to get. You'll probably catch her over there."

Leslie nodded, got Christian's attention and mimed a farewell, and waited for his nod and quick smile before striking off across the square. After checking a few aisles, she caught Camille trying to lift a twenty-pound sack of dog food off a shelf, and sprinted forward to lend some assistance. "Thanks, Leslie," Camille grunted as they let it fall into her shopping cart. "I know that's a lot for one dog, but Harriet eats like a hippo, and anyway, this size was on sale."

Leslie laughed. "Jonathan passed on the word that you were looking for me."

"Yeah, I was just wondering if you knew what's going on with Tabitha." Camille pushed her cart off toward the next aisle, and Leslie kept pace. "I found a stray kitten a couple of days ago, cowering under a bush in our front yard, and I thought I'd call Tabitha and see if she could help me figure out what to do with it so it'd be safe. But I got Fernando and he said she wasn't available. I thought that meant she was busy, so I said I'd call back, and that's when he told me she'd decided to cut herself off from all the rest of us."

Leslie stopped dead in the aisle. "What on earth...? And he approved of it?"

"No, he sounded disgusted, actually. Matter of fact, he made a point of telling me he thought it was dumb, but he didn't feel at liberty to talk about whatever her problem is, either. So I've been calling around and seeing who else is getting the same cold shoulder, and so far Myeko and Lauren said they have. Can't get hold of anybody else though."

Leslie shrugged. "I haven't heard from Tabitha since the night of that so-called party at their house, and to be honest, I hadn't thought about it that much since we don't see each other all the time anyway. It's hard to believe Tabitha's doing this. She's usually so easygoing." She thought for a moment, pacing alongside Camille. "Michiko's helping with the fantasies this weekend. When I get a chance, I'll ask her."

"Well, while you're at it, you could ask her why she didn't come to the party," said Camille. "I thought for sure she was too polite to be a no-show, especially considering all that royal protocol she must've had to absorb while she was queen of Arcolos." She paused a moment, thinking over her words. "Y'know...if it was so bad she didn't come to the party, maybe the two of them had some kind of falling-out."

"Michiko and Tabitha? They've known each other since high school," Leslie said. "That'd be hard to believe. But then again..." She shrugged. "Can't hurt to ask. I'm at loose ends for the moment. Maybe I'll take a run past Fernando and Tabitha's place and see if I can corner her on her own turf. She'd almost have to talk to me then...though of course she could always toss me out on my butt."

Camille laughed and nodded. "Yeah, there's that. Well, Captain Intrepid, go for it, and if you survive, let us know what the story is."

But before Leslie could act on her intentions, she got a call from Roarke asking her to handle a small emergency at the pool, and she ended up spending the rest of her morning there. When lunchtime rolled around, she found Michiko already there with Roarke; as soon as she sat down, Christian appeared and took his own seat, while Noelle Tokita - the children's babysitter this weekend - brought the triplets down to eat with their parents and grandfather, waving hello at the adults and heading for home to have her own lunch. By then, Leslie had forgotten all about Tabitha; Michiko's presence meant there was fantasy business to discuss, and she was eager to hear the latest.

"So what's the word?" she asked once everyone had been served and was eating.

Michiko swallowed a bite and reached for her napkin. "Well, Diana Lind is actually a pretty decent singer. She can carry a tune and she knows how to use vibrato, and once she gets started she comes across as not half bad. If she really wants to impress her classmates, though, she'll have to get past the karaoke stage. She needs the self-confidence to sing in public, and I think that's your department, Mr. Roarke."

Roarke chuckled. "What of the others?"

"Major Patterson isn't bad either, but he has to get rid of the exaggerated southern twang he sings with. I mean, he comes across as a caricature. But other than that, he could probably carry off the country-idol fantasy for a weekend." She cleared her throat and closed her eyes. "But as for Georgiana Willingham, I think it's going to take some serious work to make her fantasy come alive. When she said she'd never sung a note in her life, I realized there was a very good reason for it. She's absolutely hideous."

"Was she aware that she was hideous?" Leslie asked, grinning, catching Christian snickering silently and shaking his head to himself.

"That's the kicker - she sure was. Unfortunately, she thinks that's how she's supposed to sound in order to be a bad-ass rock chick. I suggested she listen to Pat Benatar or Joan Jett, but she said she was looking to be something more like those old 80s hair-metal bands, like Cinderella or Poison or Mötley Crüe." She eyed Leslie, who blinked in disbelief. "Remember them? You know what I mean."

"Yeah, I do, but...they were all guys! And even they sang in tune...at least some of the time," Leslie said with an amused shrug, which made them all laugh.

"My nephews were into some of that music," said Christian slowly. "More so Rudolf and Roald than Gerhard, but I can recall hearing records in that genre coming from their rooms. But it occurs to me that it sounds as if your Miss Willingham is looking to push the envelope. If you think back," he said, addressing their questioning looks, "heavy metal was the provenance of males. Long hair and occasional makeup notwithstanding, you almost never saw a female heavy-metal band - and when you did, the women sang in tune. The men were allowed to literally scream the lyrics much of the time, but the women weren't." He caught Roarke's approving smile. "You see what I'm getting at, of course..."

Roarke nodded. "It's your opinion that Miss Willingham's idea of being a rock chick is to have the freedom to scream out of tune, just as the men did."

"Exactly so," Christian said, nodding and turning his attention to his wife and Michiko, who were staring at each other with discovery. "You both see it now, don't you? Perhaps that ear-exploding voice you claim Miss Willingham possesses will work to her advantage, for the purposes of her fantasy."

Michiko giggled. "It's so insane, that's the only explanation there could possibly be. Funny how you came up with it and not Leslie or even Mr. Roarke, though."

Christian shrugged and said, "Well, I suspect Mr. Roarke knew long before any of us did, and was simply waiting for us to figure it out, or something like it. In any case, it's just my opinion, but if you ask Miss Willingham I have a feeling she'll corroborate it."

Leslie eyed Roarke. "Is he right, Father?"

Roarke chuckled. "As a matter of fact, he is. However, I have a very good reason for allowing you to ruminate over this fantasy on your own, and so many others in the recent past. I have been doing a great deal of research into a..." He paused, frowning slightly to himself, before continuing, sounding as if he were choosing his words carefully. "...a personal matter. It will require me to take something of a leave of absence, which means that you, Leslie, will be granting fantasies essentially on your own for a few weeks." He caught her alarmed look. "Have no fear, child, I've already planned the schedule you will be following during the time I must be absent; and for those few fantasies that require properties you are unable to handle, I will see to it that you have the materials you need to carry them out."

"Oh my word," mumbled Leslie, blinking. "Well then, do I get an assistant?"

Roarke looked amused. "You may certainly take on an assistant if you like - as many as you wish. I have faith in you, my daughter. You've worked for me for eighteen years and have done exceedingly well in the position. And plainly, you'll have no shortage of willing volunteers for the assistant's chair." He grinned at a wide-eyed Michiko.

"We can help too, Mommy," Karina spoke up eagerly. Susanna and Tobias nodded, both looking excited.

"Yeah, it'll be fun to do some of Gran'father's stuff!" Tobias seconded.

"Can we, Mommy, please?" Susanna begged.

Michiko grinned. "Well, there're your volunteers, Leslie." Everyone laughed. "I hope it's nothing serious, Mr. Roarke, whatever you have to look into."

"I can tell you that it has something to do with amakarna," Roarke said, glancing at Christian, whom he knew to be sensitive to that particular subject. Christian focused his attention a little more sharply, his expression chilling. "But it may be good news. After my late cousin's breakthrough with a cure for the bone-eating disease, a great deal more research has been done into the spice and its properties, and some discoveries have been made. Further, there has been discussion about the trade in black lightning, and we may be able to do something about that as well, perhaps once and for all. Rogan will be coming with me, Leslie, so that he can lend his own expertise with the spice."

"Well, then, I hope it all works out," Leslie said, though there was still a fluttery feeling in her gut about the prospect of being "the boss" for a few weekends.

As if Roarke sensed a double meaning in her words, he smiled reassuringly at her. "It will, Leslie. Have no fear, I know you'll do just fine. With your children eager to run errands, and Christian to provide his own brand of insight, and whomever you choose as your temporary assistant, you should have little, if any, trouble carrying it off. I expect to be gone for perhaps a month."

"Gone where?" Leslie wanted to know. "It's been established for a long time that you can't leave the island." Too well did she remember the weekend Roarke's one-time girlfriend, renowned (and now deceased) dancer Julie Mars, had come to the island begging him not only to let her dance again, but for them to be together; the revelations she'd learned that weekend still resonated with her all these years later.

Roarke only smiled and replied with one of his maddening non-answers. "I will be meeting with others who will provide adequate accommodation," he said. "I'll let you know more as the time draws closer. Now, Michiko, back to the business at hand: what more do you know in regard to our three would-be singers?"

"Is there such a thing as a self-confidence potion?" Michiko asked. "Something tells me Diana Lind's gonna need one. As much as she wants to impress her classmates, she doesn't quite have what it takes to get up in front of them all and sing."

Roarke chuckled. "Self-confidence must be acquired in more subtle ways than simply taking a potion," he said. "I will speak with Ms. Lind myself and determine the best way to help her. It seems that Ms. Willingham is most in need of help, however. Leslie, when you finish, please go in and give the lady a call, and ask her to come here to the house at exactly one-thirty. I suspected there would be need for some extra assistance in that fantasy, so I will see to it that it's taken care of. Michiko, you might like to work with Ms. Lind and Major Patterson; I have concerts scheduled at the amusement-park stage all weekend, and Major Patterson is to fill in three such slots: this evening, tomorrow afternoon and tomorrow evening."

Michiko glanced at Leslie, cleared her throat and smiled gamely. "Well, I'll give it my best shot," she said. "I don't know how well I'll do with Major Patterson especially. Country isn't my forte."

"All you have to do is teach him to sing less like a hillbilly and more like a modern country star," Leslie said. "Julie likes country music. You could ask to borrow some CDs from her so you can demonstrate to Major Patterson what he should sound like to make his fantasy the success he wants it to be."

Michiko laughed. "And what about Diana?"

Roarke smiled. "As I said, self-confidence cannot be conveyed through artificial means. I suggest you work extensively with her and give her some pointers. The rest must come from her. If you have trouble making her understand this, simply refer her to me."

Michiko nodded. "Okay, Mr. Roarke, I'll do whatever I can."

After lunch, when Michiko had gone to Major Patterson's bungalow to work with him, Leslie put through a call to Georgiana Willingham's bungalow, made the request for her to come to the main house, and caught Christian before he could leave for his office. "I think I might ask you to sit in on the, um...auditions," she said low. "For my assistant, I mean."

Christian laughed. "You'll have a line of applicants stretching from here to the Ring Road for that job."

"I was kind of thinking maybe you could..." Leslie began, tentatively, letting the sentence die unfinished when his amusement increased.

"I'm afraid you won't see me standing in that line, my Rose. I already have a job. On the other hand, if you want me to provide that insightful analysis Mr. Roarke seems to think is so impressive, then by all means I'll be happy to do that. Something tells me, though, that all your friends will be submitting their bids for the position." He chuckled at her expression. "Stop worrying so much! You truly have a knack for overanticipating everything. If Mr. Roarke has faith in you, then what's there to worry about?"

"Maybe I'm just a perfectionist," Leslie admitted with a heavy sigh. "I take it as a personal affront if something goes wrong, even something minor. And anyway, Father pulls it off with such ease and aplomb, and he makes it look easy and effortless, and perfect every single time. Even when he gets complaints, he manages to turn them to his advantage. I've never seen a guest of his leave unhappy."

"Well, don't forget, Mr. Roarke's had this job for well over a century, so he's had quite a bit of practice at making it look smooth and easy. But your eighteen years isn't exactly beginner territory either, you know. You should consider that you're capable of more than you think you are. And it's not as if you don't have help." Christian chuckled, glancing at the triplets, who had taken up a frenzied game of tag in the side yard while they waited for Noelle to return from lunch. "You even have three little go-fers over there - the same position you filled when you first arrived here all those years back. Look at it as an adventure. Mr. Roarke did tell you that you could take on as many assistants as you like, so perhaps you can make two or even three other people extremely proud and happy to help you out." He winked and tilted her head back to kiss her. "I love you, my Leslie Rose. I really should get back to work. I have a tropical stink beetle to clear out of a tower - all I need is a special formula your father promised to provide for me."

Leslie caught her breath. "Are you serious? A tropical _stink _beetle? I thought those things were only island legend! Mariki told me such a horror story one year about them that I managed to win a contest at one of Myeko's famous Halloween parties back in high school - for most terrifying ghost story."

Christian grinned. "I haven't seen the thing yet, but I did have to run out for about half an hour to handle a computer glitch at the island bank, and when I got back Jonathan looked as if he'd just awakened from an especially nasty nightmare. He claimed to have seen the thing infesting that computer - that it came out, wandered around the work arm of my desk, and then crawled back in. He described it in great detail, so I was able to call Mr. Roarke back shortly before lunch and let him know exactly what I was dealing with."

"Be careful," Leslie said, staring at him. "Mariki said those things are six inches long and two inches wide, and they throw off a smell that makes a skunk come across as Chanel No. 5."

Christian's levity faded a good bit and he eyed her dubiously, just as Roarke emerged from inside, carrying a small spray bottle nearly full of a translucent brown liquid. "Here's what you need, Christian," he said, handing him the bottle. "I would suggest that before you begin, you call the local exterminator and insist that they send two employees to your office. They will know what to do with your intruder. This spray is meant only to tranquilize it so that they can capture it and properly dispose of it." He smiled, as if unaware of Christian's newly aghast expression. "Good luck, and please let us know what happens, will you? Leslie, come with me; I have a few chores for you to carry out." Without waiting for a response from either of them, he took Leslie's arm and led her back to the door, leaving Christian standing on the veranda looking distinctly spooked.


	3. Chapter 3

§ § § - August 23, 2008

Georgiana Willingham appeared in Roarke's study with five minutes to spare, and presented Leslie with another careful, graceful curtsy before settling into a chair. "I'm here for my appointment, Mr. Roarke, just as you requested," she said.

"And very punctual," Roarke said with a smile. "Thank you for coming. So..." He settled back in his chair and regarded their guest with interest. "What was Miss Tokita's assessment of your singing abilities, in light of your fantasy?"

Georgiana lost her regal bearing and looked sheepish, an expression thoroughly out of place on someone who came across as so sophisticated. "I guess there's no point in sugarcoating it, Mr. Roarke. She said I have the worst singing voice she ever heard."

"She did?" said Leslie, astonished, looking sharply up from an order she was making out for more linens for the bungalows. "That's not like her."

"Well, okay, not in so many words, but I knew what she really meant. I was a little surprised, actually. I mean, consider my fantasy..."

Roarke smiled again. "I have, Ms. Willingham, at some length. Has it not occurred to you to do a little research into the genre you're interested in? I am told, by a very reliable source, that the sort of music you wish to perform this weekend has traditionally been restricted solely to the male. While it's admirable that you wish to break the gender barrier, I must question the extent of your knowledge of the music."

Looking caught out, Georgiana sat with her mouth open, then looked at Leslie. "Well, I...uh...well, what's this, uh, source say?"

"Let me ask you first," Leslie said kindly. "Whose name comes right to mind when you think of bad-ass rock chicks?"

"Joan Jett," said Georgiana immediately.

"I presume you've heard her sing," said Leslie.

"Well, yeah, but..."

"She doesn't screech," Leslie explained, hoping she sounded gentle. "Neither does Pat Benatar, or even Lita Ford." She caught the blank looks on both Roarke and Georgiana, and grinned. "Well, you see? I could come up with only those three examples, and neither of you have even heard of Lita Ford...that might be because she was a one-hit wonder. Still...the point is, these three are pretty much representative of bad-ass rock chicks, and I seem to remember there was a heavy-metal girl group called Vixen for a while. But they all sang, as opposed to screeching, like you want to do. I could name you six or eight _guy _bands who screeched. I'm thinking about Cinderella here, mostly." She paused, studied Georgiana, then prodded, "You do recognize that name, I hope?"

Georgiana shrugged. "I seem to remember them. I had a friend in school who was really into those retro groups. But that woman singing lead in Cinderella got to screech!"

"That was a guy," Leslie informed her.

Silence fell while Georgiana stared and Leslie waited; Roarke looked on for a moment, then broke the silence when it stretched out too far. "So my presumption, then, is that this lead singer, a male whom you mistook for a female, is the model upon which you wish to base your fantasy?"

Slowly turning red, Georgiana finally nodded. "Yeah...yeah. I guess so. I just..." She looked at Leslie in sheer disbelief. "Are you _sure _that was a guy in Cinderella?"

"Look it up online," Leslie suggested. Before she could go on, the door opened and Michiko poked her head in. Leslie waved at her. "Hi, come on in."

Georgiana promptly arose and performed a deep curtsy of respect, which Michiko accepted with grace, though Leslie could see a trace of weariness in her eyes. "You don't need to do that, really," she said with a little smile before turning to Leslie. "It's good that she's here, actually. I was wondering if you'd all had a chance to talk."

"Ms. Willingham has informed us that the basis for her fantasy is the lead singer of a group known as Cinderella," said Roarke with a touch of whimsy, "apparently so named despite the fact that all its members - the lead singer included - were men."

Michiko snickered. "Well, that narrows it way down," she said, glancing at Georgiana, who grinned sheepishly. "It shouldn't be too hard to find a CD or two of theirs and let you listen so you know for sure that that's what you're trying to achieve." She turned to Roarke. "Weren't you going to have Major Patterson perform concerts this weekend so he could be that country hunk he wanted to be? Because if you are, well...I've been working with him a little bit and he's really toned down the exaggerated hillbilly drawl. He's ready to become a country star."

Roarke smiled. "Very well, I'll see him as soon as we have conducted our business with Ms. Willingham here. And, may I ask, what of Miss Lind?"

"It'll be hardest for her, I think," Michiko said. "She can't muster up the gumption even to sing karaoke, much less _a capella_; but if I suggest she give up, she insists on trying again. I guess it's extremely important to her that she look like a star among a whole class full of stars."

"Poor girl," Georgiana said. "I was talking with her on the plane and she must have really got stuck with a bunch of overachievers. And she doesn't have a single standout quality to recommend her. No wonder she wants to be something special." She shrugged when the others all stared at her. "Well, heck, don't we all want to stand out from the crowd somehow?"

"Yes, that's a piece of human nature," Roarke said with a nod and an approving smile. "Well noted, Ms. Willingham. For now, however, I suspect that your chief interest is in the realization of your own fantasy; so, if you will, please follow Leslie and she will show you the trappings thereof, and then take you to the venue where you will perform your first...uh, concert."

"Is she ready for that?" Leslie asked of both Roarke and Michiko.

"I _am_, I _am_!" Georgiana squealed before either of them could speak, bouncing in her seat like an excited three-year-old. "Let's go, Mrs. Enstad, the weekend's getting shorter all the time!"

Leslie burst out laughing in spite of herself. "I guess there's my answer," she said, rising.

"Let her go for it," Michiko said with a giggle. "After all, Ms. Willingham, you said yourself that it's purely a lark for you and you'll go back to your real life afterward, so let it all hang out and really have fun with it. Good luck."

"Thanks, Your Majesty," Georgiana said and got to her own feet. "Come on, let's go!"

When Leslie had departed with their guest, Roarke focused on Michiko. "Did you wish to see me about something else?"

Michiko smiled reluctantly. "I forgot about that way you have of knowing things before you're told. Yes...my daughter's coming in on the last charter this evening. School's back in session in Arcolos, and Paolono told me that if she's going to school here on the island instead, there was no point in keeping her any longer. He warned me that her attitude is especially repugnant, so I'd better be on my guard." She sighed and met his sympathetic gaze. "Sometimes I think she blames me for her father's death."

Roarke nodded. "I see...but she is an intelligent child, and old enough to realize that this isn't true. Her adjustment period will be trying for both of you, but remember, it won't last forever."

"It'll only seem like it," Michiko kidded, and they both chuckled. "In any case, Diana Lind asked me to be with her this evening at the luau where she knows most of her classmates will be congregating, and I didn't think I could say no. Plus, I agreed to it before Paolono called to tell me Cat was already on her way." She snorted. "I gave him hell for waiting till the last minute, and he claimed to have been too busy to have found the time till just then, which I think is a cop-out and nothing else. But it's done, and I wanted to ask if you could see to it that someone meets her at the plane dock and brings her back to my mother's apartment. Mama-san stopped driving after Papa-san died, otherwise I wouldn't ask."

"Perhaps it would be better for your daughter if I had a driver take your mother to the plane dock to meet her," Roarke suggested. "She would then see a familiar face, and perhaps her arrival on the island would be a little smoother."

Michiko sagged with relief. "I have no idea why I didn't think of that. That's perfect, Mr. Roarke, thank you so much for offering. I just hope I'm not putting you to any trouble."

"None at all," Roarke assured her. "I wish you luck, Michiko. How is your new house coming along?"

"What, Christian and Leslie didn't regale you with horror tales of being awakened at six by the construction crew?" Michiko bantered, eliciting more chuckles. "They've dug out the foundation and have the basic framework erected, so at least it's under way, but I'm told not to expect to move in till probably late November or early December because of the amenities that are going into it - built-ins and energy-saving appliances, utilities like a laundry chute, pre-wiring for internet access, and all that sort of thing. But Errico told me to spare no expense and saw to it that I'd have access to the needed funds in the last few weeks before he died, so I thought I might as well make the place comfortable for me and Cat."

"Indeed," Roarke said with a nod. "I wish you all the best, then. Now if you'll wait for a moment, I'll contact Major Patterson and we will get his fantasy under way."

‡ ‡ ‡

The Saturday-night luau was more crowded than usual, at least for Leslie. The fire dancers and hula girls did in fact have a somewhat larger audience than usual, what with most of the members of Diana Lind's class reunion there; but Leslie was very surprised indeed to find all her friends there, with the sole exception of Tabitha. Diana Lind sat at the end of the table next to Michiko, looking a little out of place and with her eyes wide with anxiety.

Leslie fielded the other girls' greetings and smiled at Diana when she ventured her own, a beat or two late. "I see you're hanging out with us instead of your own friends," Leslie remarked quizzically.

"I haven't kept in touch with that many people from my high school," Diana admitted. "Only a couple of people on Facebook and a friend of mine who lives a few minutes away in Monrovia. The only reason I know what everyone's been doing since high school is that somebody added me to a Facebook group for the reunion of my class." She hunched her shoulders when Leslie only nodded and waited for more. "Michiko said I ought to try singing here at the luau if there was any way I could be wedged in between the dancers and the band playing, but I don't know if I really want to stick my neck out like that...not this soon."

"It's not that much sooner than during the reunion itself, tomorrow," Leslie pointed out gently, "and besides, if you're going to sing for your classmates, you're not going to feel any less nervous about it than you do right now." She took in Diana's balky expression and thought for a moment, then smiled. "How about this. Maybe Michiko would be willing to have you perform alongside her. You could do duets at first, and then each of you could solo once or twice."

Diana considered this, while Michiko - who had tuned them in the first time Diana said her name - gave Leslie a teasingly stern look. "Volunteering me to perform, are you?"

"It's for a good cause," Leslie said with a grin, and Michiko chuckled. "The band should be willing to provide accompaniment, and it's the perfect way for Diana to find out if she can pull off her fantasy. So why not? Besides, it's always a treat to hear you sing."

"Yeah," Diana said eagerly, hope gleaming from her eyes. "I'm so used to singing with your CDs anyway, it'd be almost like being back in my car, except with an actual audience. I even do harmony on some of your songs."

"You didn't tell me that before," Michiko remarked with an air of amused reproach. "Well, that ought to make it interesting. Okay, Leslie, if Diana's willing to do it, then so am I. You can go up anytime you like and make the announcement, and then get yourself something to eat and sit back and enjoy the performance." Leslie laughed, and Michiko turned to Diana. "So, what do you think? Are you up for this?"

"As long as you are, I am," said Diana, looking relieved, nervous and excited all at once.

"Okay, then," Leslie said, "come with me and I'll see if we can get you wedged in once this song is done." The three women arose, and Michiko and Diana trailed Leslie over to where the plane-dock band was just finishing up a cheerful tune that had a large group of people dancing. She had a few words with the bandleader, who said they would be very happy to provide accompaniment for Michiko and Diana. Leslie shot them a quick thumbs-up and thanked the bandleader, then went to the microphone.

"Ladies and gentlemen," she said, "we have a treat for you tonight. If you'd all have a seat, get yourself something to snack on and make yourselves comfy, you can sit back and enjoy an impromptu performance from Fantasy Island's own Michiko Tokita, singing some of her best-known show tunes, and her special guest, Miss Diana Lind. Let's give them a big hand!" She stepped back from the mike, leading the applause, and Michiko came out and took one of the two stools that a couple of the young native men brought out for her and Diana to sit on. Diana followed, conspicuously avoiding looking into the audience, while Leslie grabbed a plate at the buffet, filled it with fruit and hurried back to join her friends.

She settled down at their table in Michiko's vacated space, to the curious stares of her other friends. "What was that all about?" Camille wanted to know.

Leslie grinned secretively and said, "It's part of a fantasy." The other girls nodded sagely; long experience made those words all she needed to tell them to keep them satisfied, at least till Monday. She set her plate on the table and popped a grape into her mouth.

"We haven't heard Michiko sing in a long time," observed Maureen. "This really will be a treat. I take it her 'special guest' is a fantasizer." At Leslie's nod, she grinned. "Well, I hope for her sake that it goes well. I tell you, Tabitha's really missing out."

"Her own damn fault," Camille said gruffly.

Leslie was reminded, for the first time since seeing her in the grocery, of their conversation about Tabitha that morning. "Where is she, anyway? Did you guys call her and invite her?"

"We tried, but it didn't do any good," Lauren told her. "I was hoping she'd've gotten over her snit by now, but Fernando said when she told him she wasn't speaking to the rest of us, she really meant it. I wanted to ask what was going on, but I got the impression he didn't want to get any more involved in it than he had to."

"If he's that disgusted by Tabitha's carrying on, then why doesn't he let her have it?" Myeko wanted to know. "Seems he'd get fed up somewhere down the line. And listen, Leslie, I know you're not gonna believe this, but...well, I asked Michiko if she'd talked to Tabitha lately, and she just said no and changed the subject. She just plain won't talk about Tabitha at all. So whatever's going on between the two of them, the rest of us're getting the fallout."

"Guilt by association, huh?" Leslie asked, frowning toward Michiko and Diana, who at the moment were performing a duet on "I Know Him So Well" from _Chess_. Leslie was surprised, as the song was more of a call-and-response tune than an actual duet, meant to be sung by two of the characters in the musical; but she was encouraged to see that Diana was acquitting herself nicely, and that the audience was paying attention.

"I guess so," Myeko said, shrugging. "I tell you what, whatever bug Tabitha's got up her butt, if she doesn't straighten up pretty soon, I'm going to just write her off. If she ever wants to get back into our little clique, as Rae Ellen Moore called it the other day, then she'll have to come forward, explain herself and apologize."

"I'm with you," Camille said. "This 'I'm not talking to anybody' stuff is just plain stupid, and I for one am fed up to here."

"There has to be some reason she's not talking to us," Maureen said. "She's not the type to just arbitrarily decide to turn her back on her friends. Although I can't imagine what could possibly motivate her to do something that drastic."

"Is she...ill?" Katsumi ventured, in her still-imperfect English that endeared her to the other girls. "If something is wrong in here - " she tapped the side of her head - "maybe she change, and she do things that make no sense. Things like no talking to her friends."

"It can't be that," Lauren said, frowning. "Otherwise Fernando would've explained it."

"That's true," Leslie agreed. "Well, I don't know. Maybe we should wait till after the luau, or at least till after Michiko's done singing, and then we should go someplace private - the teahouse might be a good place - and see if we can get to the bottom of this."

† † †

With the compliments on Michiko's and Diana's singing out of the way (and Leslie's private observation that Diana had been receiving astonished compliments from her former classmates, before she and her friends left the luau clearing), Katsumi served tea and juice before joining the other six friends around the low table in the Japanese teahouse. After a moment or two of silence, Camille brought up the subject nobody else was quite willing to broach. "Okay, so what's the deal between you and Tabitha, Michiko?"

Michiko's features grew a little pinched and chilly. "I'd prefer not to discuss that."

"I think we should," Leslie ventured. "There's something strange going on here. I mean, from all I'm hearing, she's quit talking to all of us, not just you."

That clearly startled Michiko; she put down her teacup in slow motion, meeting each of the other girls' gazes in turn. They all nodded at her. "Well, that's really carrying this feud a little too far," she muttered.

"What feud would that be?" Maureen wanted to know.

Michiko sighed deeply and lifted her teacup again. "I guess I'd better go back to a few days after we got back from Arcolos. You all know how gung-ho Tabitha was to get me back into the swing of things. She called me when Mama-san was out doing grocery shopping with a neighbor who drives her in. She brought up her plans for the party, and I told her I'd go, of course. Then she started talking about how she was just about ready to realize her lifelong dream - to open a no-kill cat shelter here on the island. It sounded wonderful, and I encouraged her and told her it was a great idea and she'd have my support.

"Then later she called me back to complain. It turned out she hadn't been feeling all that great the last few days, and she'd had Fernando do a few tests on her." She cast her gaze around the group again with one fast sweep. "I'm really not the one who ought to be telling you this, but I guess you're going to insist. Tabitha's expecting another baby, and she was incensed."

"Why?" Myeko asked.

"She and Fernando hadn't planned on any more kids; they wanted to stop after Rafael was born. Since he's a little older and Cristina can handle taking care of him a bit more often, Tabitha was moving forward with her plans for the shelter; she had her heart set on it. Now that she's pregnant, though, she'll have to put it off a little longer. It was on Fernando's advice: a pregnant woman can have a cat, but it's better to leave the cleaning of its litter box to others, because there's something about it that could cause anaphylactic shock in a pregnant woman and it might harm the baby. Tabitha would've had some help with the shelter, but not enough to delegate that chore to other people. And with all the cats a shelter is designed to hold, he felt she shouldn't even be around that many cats at all, just to be on the safe side. So Tabitha's dream is still just a dream."

"So what's the problem?" Lauren wanted to know. "All she has to do is wait till the baby's born, and then she can go ahead with the shelter."

"She doesn't want to wait," Michiko said tightly. "She feels she's waited more than long enough, and she plans to go ahead with the shelter no matter what anyone says, including Fernando. She was upset and half crying, and I knew she was looking for sympathy. But her attitude made it clear to me that she knew she stood a good chance of endangering the baby she's carrying, and that she didn't care, because she'd rather she weren't pregnant."

There were several sharply indrawn breaths, and the girls looked at one another in disbelief. "That just isn't like Tabitha," Leslie finally said, shaking her head.

"No, but she doesn't care. All she can see is her own dream going up in smoke," said Michiko with pure disgust. "And she's going to do what she wants, even if that means putting her unborn baby at great risk. She just doesn't _care." _She looked up again, scowling. "I was so angry with her for not caring about that innocent child, I told her off and hung up on her. And that's why I never showed up at her party."

"Well, you didn't miss much," Camille said with a wry half-smile, "except maybe Maureen's catering. The food was about the only good thing about that party. Tabitha was snippy to everybody, and when we asked her what was wrong, she just ignored the question. It didn't last much more than an hour. When she finally realized you weren't coming, she told us all to go home. Then she shut herself inside the house, and we didn't see her again. We were all helping Maureen pack up the leftover food, and Fernando couldn't stop apologizing the entire time. The other guys kept looking at each other, and finally Jimmy told Fernando not to worry about it since it was her problem and not his."

Michiko rolled her eyes. "If she's stooped to acting like that, then she's really gone off the deep end."

"To have a place for cats with no home, it must mean all to her," Katsumi said slowly. "It mean so much that she work with cats even if it hurts baby."

"You don't think she'd deliberately endanger her pregnancy in pursuit of this dream, do you?" Leslie asked. "And on top of that, why on earth won't she talk to the rest of us?"

"Why would _I_ talk to _her_, now that I know what I do?" Camille demanded. "Cripes, I don't even want to take her that poor stray kitten I found, not now!"

"Maybe she figures we'll all have that attitude," Leslie said, half to herself.

Lauren snorted in annoyance and remarked, "Well, she'd be right about that."

"Someone has to talk to her and try to make her see reason," Maureen said, staring at them.

"Why should it be one of us?" Myeko asked. "Come on, Maureen, there's no point in us getting involved. It sounds like Tabitha's got her mind made up and she's not budging. And everybody knows you can't argue with someone whose mindset's carved in stone."

"That doesn't mean we shouldn't try," Maureen protested.

Michiko shook her head and said, "Well, if you do, leave me out of it. I don't think I could go in unbiased, not after the way she presented her case. All she could talk about was her cat shelter, her big dream, everything being completely ruined because she had to deal with this pregnancy and this unwanted baby. She's so obsessed with this cat-shelter idea that she won't listen to reason. Believe me, I tried to talk sense into her, but there was no swaying her. She wants what she wants, and she insisted she's waited too long as it is and that nothing and no one was going to stop her from going after that dream."

"She cannot have both at same time?" Katsumi asked, her delicate face anxious with worry. "Not mean to take care of cats, but to...to be boss of people who do that?"

"The shelter supervisor, you mean?" said Lauren. "I don't know. But if I know Tabitha, it wouldn't be enough for her just to oversee the construction and the paperwork and all the other administrative stuff. She's a true crazy cat lady - she wouldn't be able to resist wading right in and caring for cats herself."

"Which is admirable, sure," said Myeko. "But at the willing expense of her baby? Under any other circumstance it'd be a noble undertaking, but she should have a care for that kid she's got in her gut. Maybe she didn't ask to get pregnant, but it's not the baby's fault."

Leslie swung around to one side and pushed herself to her feet. "Well, I don't know about you guys, but I'm not so sure it's that cut-and-dried," she said. "There has to be some way Tabitha can still have her dream without endangering her pregnancy, whether she wants it or not. If anyone wants to come with me, you're welcome. But I'm going to see her right now and get to the bottom of this - find out just how fanatical she's really become." She started out, then paused to study Camille. "Hey, listen...where's that kitten you found?"

"We keep her in a basket in our bedroom closet, Jimmy and I," Camille said. "Every time I go in to feed the poor little thing, I have to shut Harriet outside. Not that Harriet's bent on destruction or anything - she's just too curious, and she's so much bigger that she'd scare that poor kitten out of the rest of its life." The girls laughed, and she tipped her head to one side. "How come?"

"Maybe we can take it," Leslie said. "The kids have been asking about a pet, ever since our last visit to Lilla Jordsö and Anna-Kristina's latest batch of cats. I'll have to talk to Christian about it, but I promise to let you know as soon as I can."

"That'd be great," said Camille. "Well, hell...since you might be doing us this favor, it'd be petty of me not to offer you some support here. I'll go to Tabitha's with you if you want."

"I go also," Katsumi offered. "I work on weekend only, and Haruko is in college and Chikako go back to school. Maybe I help Tabitha with cat shelter."

"That's the spirit," Leslie said, grinning. "We'll report back. Wish us luck."

"I suspect you'll need it," Michiko said, earning surprised looks from Camille, Katsumi and Leslie. But Leslie, who had been apprised by Roarke of the impending arrival of young Catalina Bartolomé, had the feeling that Michiko had a more important issue on her mind, and silently wished her best friend that same luck in return.


	4. Chapter 4

§ § § - August 23, 2008

Once Leslie, Camille and Katsumi had left the teahouse, Maureen, Myeko, Michiko and Lauren finished their tea, cleared the table and washed out their cups, and departed, splitting up for the night to head home. Maureen had the Hardings' car, so she took Myeko and Lauren along with her to drive them home while Michiko headed on foot back to her mother's apartment, not very far away from the teahouse.

She found Miyoshi serving Cat a cup of Japanese green tea and some sweet rice cakes at the kitchen table, and brightened at sight of her daughter. "Hi, sweetheart," she exclaimed, leaning over to give the girl a quick hug where she sat. "It's so good to see you again."

Cat, she noticed right away, did not return her hug. "Hello, Mother," she said stiffly, without meeting Michiko's gaze, and using stilted-sounding English rather than the more informal Arcolosian term of _"madi"_. She withdrew from Cat slowly, studying the girl's jet-black curls and thinking with dismay that Paolono had been spot-on about her attitude.

"She is tired," Miyoshi said, serene as always, smiling at Michiko with reassurance. "Soon we go to sleep, and all will look better in the morning."

Michiko wondered if her mother really believed that; but as she sat down and poured herself a cup of tea that she didn't really want, she came to understand that Cat presented a wholly different face to Miyoshi. When Miyoshi asked Cat what she had been doing during her summer in Arcolos, Cat spoke up with animation, her eyes lighting as she described her time off and the fun she had had going to official events with her sister-in-law Lindalia. "And _Grendé-Madi_, they're building a wonderful new amusement park on the coast about thirty kilometers west of Ionici, and it's going to be a cruise-ship stop too, so that it will have lots of visitors from all over Europe who take cruises! It's going to be just enormous, and it'll be even better than Euro Disney, I know!"

Miyoshi and Michiko both laughed. "Adriana always wanted an amusement park in Arcolos, but Errico used to find excuses not to go through with the idea," Michiko remarked. "I guess Paolono was of an utterly different mind."

"It wasn't Papi's fault at all," Cat told her mother snippily, before turning back to Miyoshi. Michiko watched her daughter's expression change completely in the space of half a heartbeat, from hostile and angry to cheery and excited. "Paolono said it should be open by next summer, and he said I can come and cut the opening ribbon at a big official ceremony, all by myself! I can't wait! I just wish I could see it being built."

Miyoshi smiled. "You see pictures online, yes? And the family send them to you also."

"It still won't be the same as seeing it live and in person," Cat said and shot Michiko a split second's foul look that left Michiko feeling as though she'd just been stung by several bees at once.

"You know you're going back for the summer next year," Michiko said, trying not to sound hurt. "Paolono promised."

"I want to go back home right _now," _Cat snapped at her. "I don't want to live here! I miss my rooms in the palace, and I miss the servants who took care of me, and I miss Paolono and Lindalia. And I miss the pool and the courtyard and the view of the city from my windows, and all the toys you wouldn't let me bring here, and all my own furniture."

"Catalina Pattriziana Bartolomé, you'd better watch that attitude," Michiko warned, hearing her voice tighten, "or there will be consequences you'll like even less than being here. Our new house is going up even as I speak, and you're going to have your own spacious room in it, and all your familiar furniture will be there. The Enstad triplets will be right next door, and April Harding's just across the street. It's going to be a wonderful place to call home."

"This is _your _home, not mine," screamed Cat, leaping from the table and overturning her teacup, whose remaining contents spread across the polished tabletop. _"I want to go home!" _With that, she fled from the kitchen and took refuge in the bathroom, perhaps the only place in the apartment she felt she could shut everyone out; Michiko and Miyoshi both winced at the reverberating slam of the door.

After a moment Michiko eyed her mother. "She didn't look very tired to me," she said dryly.

Miyoshi chuckled, startling her daughter, and spoke in Japanese. "You didn't tell me she was so angry with you, Michiko-chan. Is she truly so homesick for Arcolos?" She arose to get a cloth to wipe up the spilled tea.

"I suppose so. She didn't want to come back with me when I left after Errico's funeral, and when Paolono called to tell me she was on her way here, he mentioned that she had a very nasty attitude. Apparently I'm the one and only recipient of said attitude." Michiko, too, spoke in Japanese; she wondered briefly how much of it Cat understood before her mind turned back to the immediate problem. "Mama-san, I think Cat blames me for Errico's death."

At that Miyoshi, wringing out the cloth at the sink, paused and turned to study her with amazement. "Cat is a child, Michiko, but I'm sure she knows the true reason for her father's passing, and that it certainly wasn't your fault."

"She's not yet seven years old. She's a brilliant child, true, but she's going to be only a first-grader. I'm not sure how much she truly understood when we tried to explain what was wrong with Errico and what the outcome would be. Now she thinks it's my fault he died, and nothing I say will change her mind - especially not after I've uprooted her and brought her all the way to the other side of the planet to live."

"She always loved to come here before," Miyoshi said, draping the cloth over the divider in the double sink and returning to the table.

"That's because we were only visiting. Now that she can't go back to Arcolos till next June and this is to be her primary residence, it's another story entirely."

Miyoshi laid a hand on Michiko's arm. "Give it time, Michiko-chan. School will start soon. She will make friends there, and things will begin to change. It'll be slow, and you'll have to be patient with her; but I promise you she'll come around." She smiled and patted Michiko's arm, then released her. "I think you're tired too. You'd better go to bed. I'll find the air mattress for Catalina." She arose and left the kitchen; Michiko got to her feet and headed for the sofa bed in the living room to get it ready for the night.

As she was pulling it out, she heard low voices, and a few minutes later Miyoshi came back into the room and picked up Cat's suitcase, casting Michiko an apologetic look. In Japanese she said, "Cat has asked to sleep in my room tonight. You don't mind?"

Michiko blew out a sigh. "No, it's all right," she murmured and turned back to her task. Miyoshi hesitated a moment before padding out, leaving Michiko in a blackening silence, feeling left out.

§ § § - August 24, 2008

Leslie noticed at the main house the next morning that, when Michiko appeared, she was subdued and her eyes were a bit puffy. "Are you okay?" she asked, pausing in the paperwork she was shuffling on the desk. Roarke had gone to handle one of the periodic jackpot wins at the casino; it was quite early for such a thing, but Leslie had seen it before: all-night gamblers finally hitting pay dirt at ridiculous hours.

Michiko shrugged listlessly, without looking at her. "Paolono was right about my daughter having a bad attitude." When Leslie put a hand on her shoulder, she clamped her teeth down on her lower lip, which had started trembling, and managed to regain control of herself before filling her best friend in on what had happened the previous evening.

"Oh wow. I wish I knew what to say," Leslie admitted. "I realize Cat's still at an age where she can't sympathize with anyone's grief but her own, but that's still pretty harsh. She's not so young that she can't be expected to realize that you're grieving for Errico too."

"And my mother refuses to get involved," Michiko said. "She's giving Cat her way for the moment, but I can hardly wait to see how far that child pushes her before she pushes back. In the mood Cat's in, there's bound to be a confrontation sooner or later."

Leslie grinned. "Always the eye in the hurricane, isn't she, your mother? I wish I knew how she does it. She must have been raised that way from birth. There are times when I could use that serenity around some of our more obnoxious guests." Michiko finally chuckled, and Leslie gave her a quick hug. "I know it's hard now, and it's probably all the harder with the three of you in such cramped quarters, but maybe things will settle down a bit once she starts school." She stood a stack of envelopes onto one side and knocked them into line with one another by tapping them atop Roarke's date book. "Anyway, there's some good news on the fantasy front at least. Major Patterson performed a smash-hit concert at the amusement park, and they want him back for an extra show this morning on top of the ones he's already scheduled for. And Georgiana Willingham was down at that old bar the Bucket of Suds - remember that place? - yowling her heart out for a roomful of drunken sailors who were raised on 80s hair metal. So two out of three ain't bad, as Meat Loaf used to sing. We haven't heard from Diana Lind yet, but I'm sure we will before lunchtime."

"The Bucket of Suds?" Michiko blurted, astounded. "That seedy little dump is still operating? I'd have thought Mr. Roarke would have shut it down years ago because there were so many brawls there."

"No, it's not as bad as everybody thinks. I'll be one of the first to admit that the place is an eyesore and a blight on the landscape, but at least it's down near the Coral Island ferry terminal, so most of our guests never see it. They still regularly have comedians and rock bands and the occasional folk singer trying to get some experience under their belts, and they have a weekly karaoke night too. Between the Bucket and that low-down bar where Cori Mukulani still works as a bouncer, the rabble-rousers at least have some place to let off steam where it won't bother our guests."

"I suppose even genteel, dignified Fantasy Island needs that," Michiko said with a look that made Leslie laugh. "Well, it's good to know that the major and Georgiana are doing so well. It'd be nice if they could end their weekends like that, without those fun-spoiling little twists Mr. Roarke seems to so enjoy specializing in." They both laughed; then she folded her arms over her chest and studied Leslie expectantly. "If you know how Georgiana and Major Patterson are doing, then you must've had a late night last night. After all, you and Camille and Katsumi had planned to go beard Tabitha the lioness in her proverbial den."

"We stood in her living room for ten minutes insisting she come out and talk to us," Leslie said through a sigh, tidying the desktop as she spoke. "She wouldn't budge. Not even Camille mentioning that poor little kitten she found would make her come out. She's clearly convinced that we all agree with you." She paused to consider this, stack of outgoing mail in one hand. "Well, we do, actually, but I guess we're still hoping that maybe we can keep the lines of communication open."

Michiko shrugged. "She's gone off the deep end, as far as I'm concerned, so I have no interest in talking to her. Anyway, as long as I'm here - I presume there was some reason you wanted me to come over here early."

"Yeah, at about nine we're going over to see Diana Lind at her bungalow. Her class reunion starts at three this afternoon, and they're holding it in the luau clearing so there'll be enough room for everybody. Maureen and her mother are catering it, so they'll be busy all day. I want to find out if Diana's still interested in performing for her classmates."

"She did so well last night when she sang with me," MIchiko said, smiling at the memory. "I was amazed. I thought it'd be easier for her to sing the first three or four songs along with me, but after we did the first verse of a song singing in the same key, she sang harmony on the chorus...and that was on the first song! Then on the second one, she asked if we could do 'I Know Him So Well'. And I could tell she knew that song is done by two singers taking turns, so I was even more impressed. If she really wanted to, and with a little bit of training, I think she could go professional, even if all she did was supplement her income by singing in nightclubs or at weddings or something like that. Once she gets past her shyness, she's really good." She caught herself, then peered at Leslie with a glint in her eye. "By the way, Mr. Roarke didn't ply her with one of his potions, did he? Let's face it, she was awfully confident for someone who has an inferiority complex around her old classmates."

"Well, maybe we should ask her," said Leslie with a grin, coming out from behind the desk. "I've got to take some stuff over to the post office, so let's get that done and then go see Diana."

At just a minute or so past nine, Leslie knocked on the door of Diana Lind's bungalow; when her summons got a response, both she and Michiko were stunned at the woman's expression. Diana's face was drawn and her eyes were red; her hair was tangled, as if she had run her hands through it repeatedly, and she wore no makeup. She wasn't even dressed; she simply had on a worn, faded old sleep shirt and a pair of gray sweats that had been hacked off just above the knees. "Oh, it's you," she said.

They stared at her, looked at each other in disbelief, and then back at Diana again. "What in the world happened to you?" Michiko asked, unable to let Leslie take the lead.

"You look like you haven't slept all night," Leslie agreed. "Mind if we come in and talk with you about it?"

"You can if you want, but you'd be wasting your time," said Diana in a lifeless tone, stepping back to let them pass her on their way in. "I'm not singing for my classmates."

"And just why not?" Michiko demanded, with surprising indignance. "Didn't I tell you last evening how proud I was of the way you performed? Didn't we see you accepting congratulations from your old friends right and left? They thought you were good, so what made you change your mind?"

Leslie regarded the downcast Diana and observed, "It must be pretty major to make you tear your hair out and toss and turn all night."

Diana slouched to the sofa and collapsed onto it like a worn-out rag doll. "There's this guy...I had a gigantic crush on him in high school. He was there last evening. I saw him in the audience, and I kind of sang to him. Oh, not so you'd see I was paying special attention to him or anything. I just thought, hey, here's my chance to impress Mickey Grant after all these years. I just wanted to come across as someone who was as talented as all the overachievers in my class. But then..." She winced and closed her eyes, letting her head fall forward. "When I was getting compliments after the concert, he came up to me and told me I could just forget about trying to get his attention. Turns out he's a music agent in L.A., and he thought I was trying to bowl him over with my impressive talents because I wanted to be a star. I tried to explain it to him, but he wouldn't listen to me. And worse, he told me there was no way I could ever be good enough to sing for anybody. He said I should just stick to singing in the shower, and he even implied that you were crazy for letting me sing with you and ruin your show." This last she said to Michiko.

"Obviously he's an overly jaded veteran," Michiko said.

"Right," Leslie agreed, "but even if he is, and even if you did have a crush on him back then, and even if his remarks _were _kind of strong...in the end, he was only one person. So why are you letting what he said get you down, when you should be basking in all the compliments?"

"Because a bunch of other people overheard him and started agreeing with him," said Diana miserably. "He had a lot of influence in high school. He was really popular back then. Class president, homecoming king, all that stuff. And I guess he still has his faithful followers, because a whole group of them decided to cut me down. By the time the reunion starts, they'll have gotten to the rest of the class, and who knows how many people will start rethinking their opinion of my performance last night."

Michiko mumbled something in another tongue; Leslie wasn't sure whether it was Arcolosian or Japanese, but either way it sounded exasperated. She stifled a smile and turned to Diana. "You know," she said gently, "there are a couple of problems with that. Number one, I find it hard to believe that this Mickey Grant has that much influence over that many people, especially ten years after his high-school glory days - big-shot agent or not. And number two, if there are people who agreed with him just because he was the one who said all those mean things, then all that means is that they don't have the will, or the capability maybe, to think for themselves. You might be giving this guy a lot more credit than he deserves."

Diana stared at her, looking a little stunned; Michiko nodded firmly. "Leslie's right, Diana. And what's more, if you let Mickey Grant and a bunch of empty-headed toadies discourage you from doing what you want to do, then you might want to start asking yourself whether _you _can think on your own either."

"And what makes you think Mickey Grant, all by his homecoming-king, class-president, music-agent self, can decide for your entire high-school class what opinions they should have?" Leslie concluded.

Diana pushed herself into a sitting position, staring at them in amazement. "Sometimes I think I really am dumb. I can't believe I didn't think about that." She blushed a little and a small, sheepish smile broke out on her face. "Maybe I still have that crush on the jerk."

"If he's that big a jerk, I'd kill the crush," Leslie remarked, grinning at her.

"Yeah," Diana agreed and hunched her shoulders, peering up at them from under her tangled hair. "Boy, do I feel stupid right about now." She started to get up, then threw them a hopeful look. "Just do me a favor and don't let me run into him before it's time for me to sing."

"Oh, come on," Michiko said, laughing. "Never mind the big shot. You just concentrate on singing and impressing your classmates, and you can go home tomorrow morning feeling good about yourself and with some great memories to look back on. Everything else will take care of itself. Now get yourself in shape for that reunion, and I'll come back after lunch and we can decide what songs you'll be singing for your class."

Diana nodded, then cleared her throat and ventured in a timid voice, "Miss Tokita...if you have time, and if it's not an imposition...do you think you could, maybe, give me some singing pointers? I mean, I know I won't be here long enough to take actual lessons from you or anything, but...well, you're the best singer I know, and if anyone could teach me anything in only one afternoon, it'd be you."

Michiko stared at her in astonishment and thought for a moment. "I think I can spare the afternoon," she said with a little smile. "Okay then, tell you what...meet me in the theater in town at about two, and we'll see what we can do for you."

"That's great," Diana exclaimed. "Thank you so much. This really means a lot to me."

A few minutes later, as they were heading for the car, Leslie studied her friend. "You look a little funny. You okay? Did she put you on the spot or something?"

"No...no, it's not that," Michiko said, blinking. "I just...well, I'd thought earlier that maybe I should take Cat over to the amusement park, or swimming, or just to the beach...something to spend some time with her and see if I can get her to talk to me. I suppose I just welched out of that, but...I know what she'd probably say if I tried to talk her into doing something with me. Right now I'm persona non grata with her."

Leslie considered that for a moment, then smiled with sympathy. "Well, it's really up to you," she said. "But you can look at it in either of two ways. One, you could think of it as ducking out on your daughter, or two, you could see it as giving her some space. She just got here, and you're on thin ice with her. Besides, maybe your mother could soften her up a bit."

"I mentioned earlier that Mama-san won't get involved," Michiko said.

"Not overtly," said Leslie. "Just by being with her and giving her things to do and taking her places, that kind of thing. But you have several hours before you have to meet Diana at the theater. Tell Cat that you and she are invited to eat lunch with us at the main house, and don't let her weasel out of it. Get your mother to back you up. She needs to get out and have some contact with other kids, even if they're not quite her age."

Michiko smiled. "That sounds good. It appeases my conscience at the same time." They both laughed, and a moment later they were in the rover heading for town.

At Christian's office, Leslie pulled the rover out of the street and parked, hopping out and signaling at Michiko to come along with her. They had been laughing at something the radio DJ had said, so they didn't notice till they tried to open the door to the shop that they were unable to do so. "What?" Michiko blurted.

Leslie cupped her hands around her face and peered inside; it was clear that for some reason, Enstad Computer Services was closed. The desks and everything on them were draped with large canvas tarps, and all the lights had been turned out. "They're closed," she said, puzzled. "I have no idea what..." Then she remembered Christian's problem from the day before, and stepped back from the door, drawing in a slow breath. "Oh wow. Wait a minute, maybe I do. It must have been that bug."

"Bug? What bug?" Michiko asked blankly.

"Christian said somebody brought in a computer yesterday that had somehow been infiltrated by nothing less than a tropical stink beetle," Leslie told her, watching her eyes widen in disbelief. "I know it sounds impossible, but he even checked with Father about it, and that's what Father told him." She frowned thoughtfully as Michiko stared at her. "Father did say something about calling an exterminator for proper disposal of the thing, but I didn't think he'd actually do it. It looks like they had to fumigate or something."

"You're out of your mind," Michiko said in disbelief. "Nobody I know on this island has ever seen a tropical stink beetle - _ever_, Leslie - and I was born and raised here. I think you must be trying to play a joke on me."

"If I am, then why is the shop closed?" Leslie countered. Michiko had no answer for that, and she shrugged. "I'm told that Jonathan Ichino even saw the thing crawl out of the computer and roam around Christian's desk for a while before going back in." She registered her friend's skeptical stare and shrugged again. "Well, whatever happened, the fact is, they're all out. Let's see if I can get hold of Christian." She pulled out her cell phone and tried to connect with her husband, waiting through three rings before someone finally picked up. To her surprise, the voice that answered didn't belong to Christian.

"Miss Leslie?" asked a hesitant female voice.

"Julianne?" Leslie blurted into the phone, astonished. "Where's Christian?"

"We're all at the hospital," Julianne began, and on Leslie's gasp, hurried to explain. "Well, see, about an hour ago, Boss Prince called in a couple exterminators and got ready to go into that computer and get that stink bug out. Jonathan wouldn't go near it, so I stood right beside Boss Prince with that stuff Mr. Roarke gave him to immobilize the thing. And Boss Prince started taking the tower apart. Well, he got the housing off, and this, this giant..._monster _dropped out of it and hit the table right beside the computer, and Beth and I both screamed, and I kind of lost my mind and started spraying at that thing like crazy. Except I missed." Her voice dropped. "I hit Boss Prince instead, and he just hit the floor like a rock...and the bug pointed its rear end into the air and just let fly with the absolute worst stench in the history of bad smells. Anton came flying over and grabbed the spray bottle from me and managed to hit the bug. It got really still, and then I heard Beth running for the bathroom to throw up, and I tried not to, but I couldn't help it, and we were all having heaves and nausea. Darius opened the door...cussing like those were the only words he knew...and people passing outside stopped and sniffed, and then started gagging...and the exterminators got the bug finally and crammed it into a metal box of some kind, and told us to get out of the place and shut down for now because the smell'd be there for days. But we couldn't wake up Boss Prince, so Darius and Anton loaded him up into your car and we all came down to the hospital, except for Beth. She went home - she was still throwing up. We've been trying to find Mr. Roarke ever since then."

It took a dazed Leslie a moment or two to process all this. "So...who put the tarps over all the computers and desks in the office, then?" she asked inanely.

"Tarps? Oh...I guess the bug guys must've come back and put them there and fumigated and probably treated for the smell," Julianne mumbled, sounding shamefaced. Her voice began to thicken. "Oh god, Miss Leslie, it's all my fault...Boss Prince still isn't awake, or at least nobody's telling us anything, and I'm scared to death I might've killed him!"

Leslie, though now highly worried over Christian, tried to console her anyway. "Look, you keep seeing if you can get hold of Father. I know he had some things to do and I haven't seen him since breakfast myself, but just keep trying. We'll be down there shortly." She clapped the phone shut and gestured at the rover. "Come on, we need to go to the hospital."

"What for?" Michiko wanted to know.

"I don't know whether to tell you myself or let Julianne do it," Leslie said with a sidelong glance at her. "But Christian's there, and from what I hear, he's a patient. I want to know what's going on." She threw herself into the front seat and started the engine; Michiko barely had time to get in before she backed the car out and literally made tracks on her way to the hospital.

In the lobby they could see Christian's employees waiting in a tense, grim-faced knot near the picture window that looked out onto the extensive garden and the ocean beyond. She counted heads: Darius Langford, Taro Sensei, Anton Lauterhoff, Jonathan and Julianne Ichino. Yes, they were all there, except for Beth Keoki and Christian. Leslie headed for them with Michiko lagging three or four steps behind, her face still bewildered. Christian's staff all turned at her approach, and as she got near them she caught a whiff of some ferocious stench that made her stop in her tracks. Julianne burst into tears, and Jonathan awkwardly patted her shoulder while he and the others mumbled greetings.

Leslie decided to ignore the smell for the moment. "Is there any word on Christian?" she asked urgently.

"Not yet, Miss Leslie," Darius told her with a heavy sigh. "We knew Mr. Roarke gave Christian something to knock out that stink bug, but who knows what was in it. Where is he?"

"I don't know," Leslie admitted. "He's been gone since breakfast."

"Isn't there any way at all you can find him?" Taro wanted to know.

Leslie could think of only one way, but that meant she'd have to go to the main house, and at the moment her first concern was Christian. "I can, but I want to see my husband first. Hey, Julianne, calm down. You didn't hit him on purpose." Julianne just went on crying, and Leslie sighed gently and smiled at the others before going to the admissions desk. "I need to know what's going on with Christian. Where is he, and what's wrong with him?"

"We have him in an isolation room, Miss Leslie," said the nurse, her face screwing up for some reason. "He came in unconscious and smelling worse than a sewer. We've tried several treatments on him, but he hasn't stirred since they brought him in."

Leslie considered the situation for a moment, then took a deep breath and made the decision. "I want to see him, and I'm not taking no for an answer."

The nurse stared at her as if she'd lost her mind. "Miss Leslie, I strongly advise against it. The smell is...well, it's indescribable. I don't think there's a gas mask in existence that would keep you from smelling it."

"I don't care," Leslie said stubbornly. "Take me to him."

The nurse sighed and made a quick phone call, and a few minutes later two doctors came out. Recognizing her, they took her back without a word, leading her all the way to the end of the corridor, making a right, and pausing in front of a door that bore a quarantine sign and was securely locked. "Miss Leslie," one of the doctors finally said, "we got the whole story from Prince Christian's staff, and we have to tell you, nothing's going to happen with your husband till we've got Mr. Roarke here. I don't know what he used to immobilize that stink beetle, but I tell you what, you better hope it isn't lethal."

"Just let me in," Leslie insisted, steely-voiced.

The doctors looked at each other before one removed a key from a pocket and unlocked the door. "Hold your breath," he said ironically, opening the door just enough to allow Leslie access and then pulling it shut behind her the second she was through.

Leslie gasped and covered her nose and mouth with both hands; they had been right about the odor. _So that's a tropical stink beetle, huh?_ she thought in disbelief. It was as if someone had dumped about twenty corpses in advanced putrefaction beside an enormous, overflowing sewer; that was the only way she could think of to describe it. She scuttled for the lone window in the room, which was open as wide as it would go, and sucked in several deep breaths before turning to face the inert form lying in the bed. The only sign of life in Christian was the slow rise and fall of his chest; otherwise she might have feared he was dead. She edged as close as she dared get before the stench became too much for her; she was, at least, within arm's length of him, and she reached out and shook him as hard as she could, rocking the bed enough that it creaked loudly. "Christian, wake up!"

His head rolled back and forth on the pillow with her shaking, but he didn't respond, and she swallowed back a rush of fright. "Okay, okay...well, the next thing to do is find Father. Blast it, I'm going to have to get him to teach me how to do this from someplace besides his study. I'll be back, my love, I promise." Just for good measure she shook him again, with the same lack of result, before half running to the door and banging on it with a frantic fist.


	5. Chapter 5

§ § § - August 24, 2008

Leslie had finally managed to locate Roarke at the ferry terminal - all the way on the other side of the island - and now, at the hospital about fifteen minutes later, Roarke put the question of what had happened to Julianne, whose face looked haggard; her eyes were a little red from her earlier crying jag. "I...I'm not quite sure, Mr. Roarke," she mumbled, flashing a glance at Leslie and looking hastily away, as though in fear of retribution. "I was panicking at the time and I didn't realize I was spraying him and not the...the bug. I probably got off four or five shots before Anton took the bottle away from me and aimed it in the right direction."

Roarke frowned and considered it for a moment. "It's a powerful anesthetic. If left to himself, Christian might be out for several days." He turned to a doctor, who was loitering nearby with a few nurses. "Doctor, I think you'd better take me to Christian now. It could be deleterious to him to remain unconscious for too long."

"Right this way, Mr. Roarke," the doctor said, and Roarke followed him down the corridor with Leslie hard on his heels. Inside the isolation room, Roarke halted where he stood and cleared his throat, wincing at the lingering smell.

"It seems the insect must have scored a direct hit on the poor man," he murmured, taking a breath or two before crossing the room toward the bed where Christian lay. "When we get him to the house, I'll have something he can use to bathe with that will remove the smell. Take his hand, Leslie, and hold it firmly. He may come out of it with some energy." She moved to the other side of the bed and grasped Christian's limp hand in her own, wrapping her fingers tightly around it.

Roarke placed a hand on each of Christian's temples and closed his eyes while Leslie watched anxiously. It took about ten seconds before Christian's hand twitched in Leslie's and he moved his head a little from side to side. Then, all at once, he rocketed into a sitting position, a shocked look on his face, his eyes wide, unfocused, and darting all over the room. _"Va' var det? Va' hender häromkringa? Va' gör jag här då?"_ he blurted in _jordiska_, before Roarke unexpectedly gave him a hard shake. It was violent, but it worked. Christian cursed in his own tongue before blinking and shaking his head a few times. "Ach, _herregud_...I have a killer headache."

"Is there anything else wrong?" Roarke asked.

Christian sat for a moment considering, then shook his head slowly. "No, it doesn't seem so. The headache is focused toward a spot somewhere on the back of my head, but the pain is all-encompassing. And..." He caught himself, sniffed and recoiled. _"Heilige hjusande ödet, what_ is that _smell?"_

Leslie laughed at the _jordisk _curse, and Roarke half-smiled. "I regret to inform you that you had a close encounter with a tropical stink beetle."

Christian stilled entirely for a second or two; then his eyes went wide again and he stared at Leslie. _"Herregud," _he muttered again. "Now I remember. What happened, anyway? How did I end up here, wherever 'here' is?"

"Maybe you should let Julianne tell you," she remarked whimsically. "You're in the hospital isolation room. How much do you remember?"

Christian thought for a moment. "Well, I called the exterminators," he mused, "and they arrived with their equipment and a large steel box. Jonathan refused to have anything to do with the whole operation, so Julianne held the spray bottle for me. I removed the tower housing..." He scowled and blinked rapidly with recollection. "And the ugliest living nightmare I've ever seen fell out and hit the work arm of my desk with a crack that sounded like a window breaking. That's the last thing I can remember. So what happened?"

"As Julianne told it," Leslie explained with a growing grin, "she and Beth Keoki both screamed, and she thought she was aiming the spray at the bug, but in her panic she missed and zapped you with it instead. Several times, as a matter of fact. It knocked you out cold, and apparently it worked the second it hit you. The way she put it was that you hit the floor like a rock."

"That probably explains the peculiar focus of my headache," Christian said, gingerly rubbing a spot toward the back of his head. "How long have I been out?"

Roarke checked his gold pocket watch. "Approximately two hours," he said. "Whatever other information you need, you'll have to request from your employees. Do you feel strong enough to walk?"

Christian swung his feet off the bed and stood up, shrugging. "I feel fine. Whatever you did to bring me out of it, it worked very well. If you don't mind, I'd like to get out of here and see if I can get rid of this unendurable stench."

"I have something at the main house that will help with that," Roarke assured him. "In the meantime, most of your staff is in the waiting room hoping for good news."

Christian quirked an eyebrow. "Then by all means, let's give it to them," he suggested, making Leslie and Roarke laugh. He took his wife's hand and squeezed it as they left the isolation room; all the way out to the waiting room, hospital staff stared at Christian in amazement as much as they shrank from him because of the smell. But his staff rushed him the moment they saw him, and Julianne Ichino Ryerson burst into tears again.

Christian stared at her in astonishment. "What on earth...?"

"She feels guilty because she knocked you out with Mr. Roarke's bug spray," Jonathan explained with a grin.

Christian laughed and patted Julianne's shoulder. "Oh, now, it's not that bad. Mr. Roarke resurrected me, so you can stop worrying. Incidentally..." He studied his employees. "Two questions. Where's Beth?"

"The beetle raised such a stink in the office that she couldn't stop vomiting and had to go home," Anton Lauterhoff told him. "By the way, the office is closed...the exterminators said it would probably have to stay that way for a few days because the smell saturated the place."

"Wonderful," Christian said through a sigh. "My other question is, what happened to that stink beetle?"

His employees shrugged. "Heck if we know," said Darius. "We were too busy trying to breathe untainted air to see what they did with it."

"Well, what sort of procedure would be involved in disposing of one of those?" Christian wondered, turning to Roarke.

"It's my understanding they must be burned in a closed room similar to a crematorium," said Roarke, glancing at the others and taking in their expressions. "I myself have never directly dealt with one of the insects. Might I ask, Christian, the name of the patron who left that computer with you for repairs?"

Christian thought, frowned, and eyed Darius. "He came to you first, as I recall. Did you ask his name?"

"I tried, but that was when he spotted you at your desk and ran over there to put his computer down on it. I've got a funny feeling he's not coming back for it," Darius remarked with a grin, touching off laughter.

"Well, I guess the big stink-bug debacle's all wrapped up now," Leslie said, grinning. "Listen, Father's got something at the main house to help get rid of the lingering effects. If you want, come on over and we'll see that everybody gets some. You might have to call poor Beth, or one of you take some over to her, maybe."

Christian had had the Enstads' car, in which Anton had driven everyone to the hospital after Julianne had accidentally knocked Christian unconscious; so Roarke took the jeep, Taro, Jonathan and Julianne to the main house while Leslie drove the car with Christian, Anton, Darius and Michiko. "This really has been the strangest day," Michiko said, shaking her head from the very back. "I'm still not sure I believe it."

Christian eyed her. "You can take it from me, Michiko," he assured her, "it all really happened. I saw that monster myself, and I'm sure I'll never forget the sight."

"All right, then, so what did it look like?" Michiko challenged him.

"Ah, now, let's see..." Christian mused. "It was at least as long as my hand from the wrist to the end of the middle finger, and as wide as my four fingers put close together. It had a blunt black head with antennae that stretched out to the length of my little finger, and its back was white with thin brown stripes running from head to tail at close intervals. And that carapace shone as if it had been lacquered. Perhaps that's what made the awful cracking sound when it fell out of that tower cabinet and landed on my desk."

"Oh," said Michiko, her expression showing that she was trying to picture this apparition as Christian described it. "So about six inches long and two or three inches wide, with two-inch antennas coming out the forehead. So tell me...did you see it spray you?"

"Never had a chance," Christian remarked, rubbing his head again. "Julianne saw to that." That got him a laugh as Leslie pulled up beside the jeep near the fountain.

In the study they found Julie waiting for them, pacing the floor and looking very impatient indeed. As soon as Roarke led the entourage inside, she exclaimed, "For Pete's sake, uncle, where've you people _been? _I've been waiting here for..." She froze where she stood, mouth open as if to go on speaking; then her entire face crumpled in on itself and she covered her mouth and nose with both hands, backing away, exuding revulsion. "What in the _world _is that horrible, horrible _smell?"_

"A tropical stink beetle," Leslie told her. "Christian and his entire staff had an unfortunate encounter with one at his office, but it's gone now. They're here so Father can give them something that'll remove the stink when they go home to clean up."

"Oooh, _gross," _Julie moaned. "You'll all have to walk home, I tell you, because nobody'll let you within ten feet of them to get a ride, stinking the way you do."

Christian gave her a curious, amused look. "What, you didn't think those things were just a part of island lore or something?"

"Heck no," Julie said emphatically. "Before I was born, my sister ran into one; my parents verified it. She used to tell the story every Halloween just to scare the pants off me. It worked up till I was about eight, then I started figuring she was exaggerating. Now I see she wasn't."

"If you can wait just a moment more, Julie, I'll take care of whatever you need," Roarke said. "Right now, Christian and his staff have a more pressing problem. Excuse me one moment." He headed off toward the kitchen, and Christian yanked loose the knot in his tie and stripped it off, blowing out a long breath.

"How can you stand that stench?" Julie cried, staring at him.

Christian chuckled wryly. "Apparently we've been immersed in it long enough to have grown somewhat accustomed to it," he said. "Not that I won't be deeply glad to get rid of it, believe me. Michiko, what are you still doing here? Don't you have a fantasy to attend to?"

"Not till after lunch," said Michiko, "and that reminds me. My daughter and I have been invited to join you here at the main house. I just hope by then you're presentable."

Christian threw her a look that made her blink and back up a step before snickering; Leslie grinned and suggested, "You might go on home for now and see if any of that stench has transferred itself to you by osmosis. I might take a shower myself just to be sure."

"Might?" Christian repeated with a glance at her that got waggling eyebrows and a few low whoops from his employees, with the exception of the still-very-embarrassed Julianne. "Oh, shut up, the lot of you. I was trying to come up with some way to thank you for getting me help as soon as you could, but after that little display of immaturity, I think I've changed my mind." He smirked at them. "Leslie, my Rose, I'll be upstairs in case anyone needs me. When your father gets back with his next magic potion, come up and join me." She chuckled and nodded, and he headed up the stairs, slinging the tie over his shoulder as he went.

"So did he really see a stink beetle?" Julie wanted to know, still with a hand over her nose.

"Yeah...you want me to repeat his description for you?" Leslie inquired, and Julie shook her head, making Leslie grin.

Roarke came back then with a tray holding a decanter full of what looked like nothing so much as neon-pink bubble bath, as well as several small squat vials. He set the tray on his desk and parceled out the pink liquid, handing a vial to each of his employees. The men stared dubiously at it; Julianne unscrewed the top on hers and took a deep sniff. "Oh wow, it smells like roses," she exclaimed. "Much better than stink-bug stench."

"Mr. Roarke..." Jonathan began.

"I don't want to sound ungrateful, but men should not smell like roses," Anton said bluntly.

"It didn't smell like roses when I created the mix," Roarke said, sounding genuinely surprised. "Are you quite sure, gentlemen?"

Anton and Jonathan looked at each other before Anton's gaze slid to Darius, and Jonathan and Taro eyed each other too. Then Darius shrugged, twisted off the top of his vial, and inhaled through his nose. "Hey," he said, "this smells great. Not like roses at all. More like Irish Spring - clean and fresh."

His companions stared at him, glanced at one another and tried their own, and all agreed that Darius was correct: it did smell like the well-known soap brand. With effuse thanks to Roarke, they crowded out of the house, all of them clearly eager to get home and clean up. Julianne started to follow, then hesitated in the inner foyer.

"Miss Leslie, I'm really sorry for knocking out Boss Prince like that," she said, wincing.

Leslie sighed and chuckled softly while Roarke poured out a vial for Christian. "To tell you the truth, Julianne, chances are I'd have done exactly the same thing if I'd been in your shoes," she admitted, making Julianne break out into a relieved grin. "It occurs to me that you kind of overreacted...I mean, all that crying."

Julianne looked sheepish. "Well, I probably wouldn't have normally, but Adam says my hormones must be really screwy. We just found out I'm pregnant - due next April."

"How sweet!" Julie exclaimed, and Leslie and Roarke congratulated her too. Julianne, clearly enlightened of a great burden, thanked them and hurried out in her co-workers' wake.

Roarke studied Leslie as he handed her the vial for Christian. "I suppose you've decided you need a shower as well," he remarked.

"I think we should," Leslie said, glancing at a grinning Michiko, "just to be safe." She grinned at Roarke. "See you at lunch, Father and Michiko. Julie, he's all yours." Accepting the vial from Roarke, she trotted upstairs.

‡ ‡ ‡

Lunch with Michiko and a sulking Cat turned out to be only a partial success. Cat seemed willing enough to talk with the triplets, and even answered some questions put to her by Roarke and Leslie; but she seemed to be making a point of ignoring her mother. Michiko admitted to sheer relief when the meal was over and Cat had run into the side yard to play with Karina, Susanna and Tobias, under Brianna Harding's supervision. "You see how it's going, Mr. Roarke," she said. "Mama-san says to give it time, and Leslie told me the same thing, but the question here is, how much?"

"I am afraid even I can't tell you that, Michiko, I'm terribly sorry," Roarke said, smiling at her with sympathy. "But whatever you do, don't give up on her. She may appear to be rejecting you outright, but in fact she is in greater need of your love and reassurance now than ever before, what with having just lost her father and moving to a new place. I know you are grieving King Errico as well, and you may find that that shared grief will give you two some common ground from which to begin." He extracted his pocket watch to check it. "I understand you have an appointment about one-thirty; I would suggest that you relax, knowing your daughter is in capable hands for the afternoon, and attend to Miss Lind's fantasy. Leslie and I have appointments of our own."

Christian - who now smelled of the sandalwood soap he always used, but somewhat more strongly - watched Michiko rise, bid Leslie goodbye and leave the house, heading down a path toward town. Then he sighed and looked at Roarke. "Well, since my business is in a forced shutdown for the next few days, do you happen to have any ideas as to what I should do with myself?"

"You've never learned how to relax?" Roarke inquired with all apparent surprise. "Must you always be working? Think of this as a vacation of sorts. If you like, you could take over supervision of the children."

Christian glanced down the veranda and chuckled. "I probably could, but Brianna and Noelle are in such competition for babysitting duties that if I tried to send Brianna home, she'd probably protest that she wasn't getting the same time - and pay - as Noelle. Anyway, who says that keeping three four-year-olds out of trouble is relaxing?" They all laughed.

"Well, just hang out with us, I guess," Leslie said. "Maybe we can put you to work sealing envelopes and licking stamps. There's a lot of mail to get ready to send out."

"Ah, I see...grunt work," Christian said humorously. "Perhaps I could stand some relaxation at that. Lead the way, if you'll be so kind."

About twenty minutes later, with Leslie folding letters and stuffing envelopes while Christian sealed them and plastered stamps on them, the door opened and in came Major Gary Patterson, looking disillusioned, crushing a badly battered Stetson between his hands and leaving dusty bootprints in his wake. "Uh...am I interrupting anything?" he asked.

"Not at all, Major Patterson," said Roarke. "Please come in and have a seat."

Major Patterson took him up on it, crossing the floor without noticing the dust that fell off his boots. Leslie and Christian glanced at each other but made no comment. Meantime Roarke inquired, "What can we do for you, Major?"

"I was wondering...well, I've got two more concerts to do today, but I...I gotta be honest. I'd rather bow out of them. Cut off the rest of my fantasy."

"May I ask why?" questioned Roarke, leaning forward a little and resting both arms on the desktop.

Patterson frowned out the window, his gaze faraway. "It started out great," he said slowly. "I had a great time being a country idol. Fans asking for autographs, singing along with my songs...I had no idea I knew all those original tunes, by the way...having people running around doing whatever I ask and getting me anything I want. Making fans happy. But then...well, I dunno...it's all the female hangers-on. The groupies, I guess you could say. I always thought groupies hung out only around rock stars...they're the ones who're supposed to lead the really decadent lives. But I guess country hunks have groupies too."

"How is that a problem, Major?" Roarke asked.

"I'm married, Mr. Roarke. I mean, it's nice to have fans, and be appreciated by pretty women and all, but I guess at heart I'm really an old-fashioned guy. I love my wife. And it's like nobody in this business can understand that. Like marriage is just one big joke to these people. Even the groupies seem to think like that. I don't want to be in that world anymore, Mr. Roarke. I just...I just want to go back to being plain old Major Gary Patterson of the US Air Force. That is...after all, it's Sunday afternoon, and I've had enough of this fantasy."

"I see," Roarke mused quietly, considering the request. After a moment he looked up. "I do sympathize with you, Major, and I understand your point of view perfectly. However...since you do have two more concerts to perform, under the agreement we reached when we first spelled out the terms of your fantasy yesterday morning, perhaps we can find a compromise. If you would consent to perform in a smaller venue, for a smaller audience, we can consider the terms fulfilled, and you will avoid the pitfalls of playing to large audiences and having a sizable entourage catering to your every whim...as well as a few whims you don't have."

Patterson thought it over while Leslie and Christian went on preparing mail; then he focused on Roarke and smiled. "You know, I think that might work out just right, Mr. Roarke. Where would I be playing, though?"

"The supper club should be ideal. It's a more intimate setting, more like dinner theater, and you'll have a far smaller retinue. The manager and his waitstaff will be the only ones at your service, and there will be no groupies and no, uh, 'hangers-on', as you put it. You'll be able to concentrate on your performance and make the very most of these final shows, and perhaps you'll return home with a more positive memory of your experience."

Patterson beamed. "That'd be perfect, Mr. Roarke. It's a deal. I really appreciate this - thanks a million." He stood up, shook hands with Roarke over the desk, and tossed a wave at Leslie. "Thanks for everything this weekend." With that he left, leaving a second trail of bootprints behind him.

"Oh dear," Leslie said, staring at them. "Mariki isn't going to like that."

"She would have liked even less the stench we were doused with a little while ago," Christian noted a bit tartly, "so you'll have to excuse me if I walk out of here should she complain." They laughed and returned to work.

That afternoon Christian, having played chauffeur for his wife on some errands around the resort end of the island, accompanied her to the reunion of Diana Lind's high school, where she was to sing for her classmates. Michiko met them near the entrance to the clearing and smiled broadly. "You look...and smell...none the worse for your little adventure this morning, Christian," she commented.

"Yes, Mr. Roarke's little scrub did the trick," Christian agreed. "He seems to have an answer for everything, doesn't he? So how is your young protégée - is she ready to perform?"

"About as ready as she'll ever get, I suppose," Michiko said. "We worked for quite a while this afternoon, and she seemed to have recovered from this morning's blue funk. I told her not to overdo it - just stick to three or four songs at the most, since this isn't exactly a rock concert."

Leslie grinned. "That's probably good advice. Well, let's see if we can find an out-of-the-way place to sit, and I'll make a few rounds."

"This isn't the luau, my Rose," Christian said, puzzled.

"No, but it's good to make sure everyone's enjoying themselves," Leslie said and kissed him. "Come on, let's find a good spot."

She was back at Christian's side within twenty minutes, and for a while they sat on the perimeter of the clearing, watching the reunion. Finally it seemed everyone had arrived, and there was a long round of people going up onto the stage to introduce themselves, talk about what they'd been doing since high-school graduation, and (for those who had them) brag about families. Leslie and Michiko exchanged glances every so often as they gradually came to realize that Diana had been right about her classmates; a disproportionate number of them had gone on to law careers, medical careers, technological careers, and even two or three in show business - including the guy who turned out to be Mickey Grant, the agent in Los Angeles. Leslie watched him for a few minutes after he delivered his spiel and saw him join a group of guys who looked much as he did: attractive, somewhat muscular, still looking as if they could join the local football team. It became clear that they were a group apart, a bunch of friends who'd known each other since high school and stayed in touch afterward.

Diana delivered her "report" five or six people after Mickey Grant, and someone shouted from nearby, "Are you gonna sing, Diana? You sounded so good yesterday!"

Diana blinked in surprise, then grinned sheepishly and half demurred by saying, "Well, that depends on how many people want to hear me, I guess."

A gratifying round of cheers and encouraging applause went up, and Diana seemed amazed by this reception before giving in and raising more cheers, this time of approval. She got off the stage, and in just a minute she had reached Michiko, Leslie and Christian. "Did you hear that? They want to hear me sing!" she cried exultantly.

"Well, there you go!" Michiko said, grinning.

"M-maybe you should come up with me and..." Diana began.

Michiko and Leslie both shook their heads, and Michiko said, "No, Diana, this is your place in the sun, not mine. Remember what we talked about in the theater earlier? You don't need to stand on my shoulders. Your voice sounds just fine on its own and you can do this without any help from me. The fact that they asked you to sing, without your bringing it up, proves that. So get up there and give it your all."

Diana nodded. "Yeah...yeah, you're right. Okay, well, wish me luck anyway." Christian, Leslie and Michiko all did so, and she retreated into the crowd.

"Funny way to conduct a reunion," Leslie finally mused, "having everybody come up and brag about themselves like that."

"It's no worse than your twenty-year reunion a few years ago," Christian teased her, "with that woman up there pretending she was a combination teacher and game-show host, calling roll and holding contests."

Leslie and Michiko laughed. "That's just Rae Ellen," Michiko said. "She's not so bad. We finally got to really talk to her at the reunion the other day, and I think we all learned a little something about ourselves and the way we as a group were perceived back in high school."

"I remember your telling me about that," Christian said to Leslie, and that set off a conversation among the three of them that kept them busy till someone announced that it was time for Diana to sing; then they turned their attention to the other side of the clearing, where the plane-dock band often performed at Saturday-night luaus, and settled back on their stools to listen to Diana.

She acquitted herself surprisingly well after a nervous little giggle into the microphone, singing three show tunes: "I Don't Know How to Love Him" from _Jesus Christ Superstar_, "I'm Gonna Wash That Man Right Outa My Hair" from _South Pacific_, and even "Memory" from _Cats_, which made Michiko gasp when Diana started singing it. "Oh my word...I had no idea she was going to try that," she breathed, hand near her throat.

Christian and Leslie looked at each other, then joined hands and turned their attention to Diana. The entire clearing was silent as she sang; somehow, Leslie realized, she had gone into a world of her own and was singing for herself, rather than for anyone else. _I think that's how it's supposed to be,_ she thought with a faint smile. _I'm pretty sure Father would agree. _Diana's voice remained strong and clear, and while she didn't sing loudly, she sang well enough that she pulled off the whole song with no apparent strain. She visibly started when the song's ending was greeted with raucous applause and cheers. Blinking, she grinned again and got off her stool, waving and thanking the gathering before bolting off to the catering tables where Maureen, her mother and some of their staff had been busy since the reunion began.

"Wow," said Leslie, watching Michiko sag with relief and close her eyes.

"I was afraid she'd miss a note or her voice might crack," Michiko admitted, turning to her. "She isn't trained, after all. But she did so well...let's go congratulate her."

"I'll go for that," Leslie agreed as Christian got to his feet. "I could use something to drink in any case, and maybe Maureen can take time to say a quick hello."

They wove their way through knots of people and finally reached the buffet, where they spied Diana and started in her direction. Then a male voice rose just above the general chatter; its owner wasn't trying to make himself heard by the entire gathering, but it was plain he meant for Diana to hear what he said. "You can quit trying to get an appointment," he said snidely. "I don't care how good you think you are. I'm not impressed."

"Mickey, c'mon, lay off, willya?" someone muttered.

Just as Michiko, Christian and Leslie came into full sight of the scene, Diana seemed to reach her limit. Slamming her empty plate onto the table, she whipped around and glared at him. "Just how big _is _your ego anyway, Grant? Where do you get off thinking I was singing because I wanted to impress _you? _I don't give a rat's hind end what you think. Not that you care, but just for your information, I was _not _singing for your benefit: I was singing because I like to sing! I don't want to go pro, and your lousy opinion means nothing to me. So take your big fat swollen head back to L.A., hotshot, and go back to destroying other people's dreams. Mine have nothing to do with you!" With that, she shoved him aside and began plowing through people on her way out of the clearing. Michiko threw Leslie an apologetic glance and followed.

"Damn," said Mickey Grant, looking a little nonplused, glancing around him and then flashing a cocky half-grin. "Well, hell, at least she knows where she stands."

"Do you really enjoy being like that?" one of his female classmates asked. "I've been waiting a long time to see somebody take you down a few pegs, golden boy, and I really enjoyed that. You always were a jerk, Mickey." She left, along with a number of others.

Grant stared after her, watched quite a few others turn away as well, looked around for some sympathy and spied Christian and Leslie. "Whoa," he said. "That's kinda harsh, don't you think?"

"No more harsh than your misguided assessment of Miss Lind's singing ability, or her reasons for doing it," Christian said coolly, settling his stance and eyeing Grant with a jaundiced stare.

"Did it ever occur to you that just because you were the class big shot, doesn't mean you get to carry it over into real life?" Leslie inquired softly. "Diana was right: if you think everybody who happens to sing or dance or even read aloud in your presence is actually auditioning for you somehow, then you really do have an overblown ego. Some people do those things because they like to do them, Mr. Grant, not because they're hoping to get in good with you. I wonder how many fragile egos you've taken such pleasure in destroying ever since you got into the business. You owe Diana an apology, and I suggest you find her and make sure it's a good one - and that you really mean it." She held Grant's gaze for a moment, then found Christian's hand and pulled him away and out of the clearing.


	6. Chapter 6

§ § § - August 25, 2008

"Exactly what do you plan to do at the plane dock, Christian?" Roarke asked with great amusement as he and Leslie prepared to leave to see off their guests. "I realize you're at loose ends, but I'm afraid there's no reason for you to be there."

"Oh, I don't know...he could always dress in a sarong and hand out farewell leis," Leslie said with a wicked grin at her husband. Christian rolled his eyes.

Roarke chuckled. "You might handle any telephone calls that come through in our absence," he said. "We should return in an hour or so." Christian nodded and settled behind the desk, with a last reproachful look at his grinning wife.

Their first arrival was Georgiana Willingham, who was now defiantly clad in jeans and a T-shirt; she still had that upper-class bearing about her, but looked more relaxed. "I have to thank you for the best vacation I've ever had," she said enthusiastically. "It really did the trick. I guess I didn't realize that I wanted to be a bad-ass rock chick not just for the experience, but also because I had about three tons of stress I needed to vent. Do you think it'd be okay if I come back and do it again next year? Or at least, whenever my father and uncles, the family dictators, tell me I can have another vacation?"

Roarke and Leslie both laughed. "If you wish, you may certainly do so," Roarke agreed, shaking her hand. "I'm very glad we could be of help. Have a safe and pleasant trip home."

"Thanks, and you take care of yourselves," Georgiana said, beaming. "I'd like to see this place again next year looking just like this." They laughed, and she headed off to the docking ramp, waving back at them one final time as the second rover rounded the bend, carrying Diana Lind. She was wearing a long green-and-white-striped sundress and a big smile.

"So how did your fantasy finally turn out for you?" Leslie inquired when Diana had stepped out and the car had pulled away.

Diana heaved a breath and smiled. "Well, it was kind of up and down for a while there. Being able to sing in front of my classmates like that, getting to meet Michiko Tokita...and then there was that snot Mickey Grant. I can't believe I ever had a crush on such a shallow fathead. But the funny thing was, I was back in my bungalow last evening thinking about the weekend and whether it had been worth it...and lo and behold, somebody knocks on my door and it turns out to be the fathead himself. He actually apologized to me for the awful things he said, and I have to admit, that was pretty decent of him in the end."

"Well, good," said Leslie.

"Yes," Roarke agreed, smiling. "Despite Mr. Grant's interference, it seems to me that you not only had a fantasy fulfilled, but you made a few discoveries about yourself."

"Yeah...not the least of which is that I don't have to be a big achiever to be somebody special," Diana said with a little grin. "And I'm really grateful to you for that. I mean, one of Mickey's buddies asked if we could stay in touch after we get home. He even asked me out for next weekend. So I guess I'm not quite the invisible woman I thought I was."

"Terrific," said Leslie, glad for her. "Good luck, and I hope it all works out." She and Roarke shook hands with Diana and watched her stroll off to the dock, returning her last wave.

Major Gary Patterson got out of his rover with a huge grin plastered to his face; he was back in uniform, even down to the cap. "Well, I think you could say my weekend was a mixed bag," he said, before either Roarke or Leslie could ask. "It was fun till it got to be too much, but I think those last two shows at the supper club were just about my speed." His grin got even bigger somehow. "And I got a bonus on my last show. Look at this." He extracted a business card from his wallet and handed it to Roarke.

Leslie read it over Roarke's shoulder. "Wow," she exclaimed. "Perry Marston, the famous country-music agent? I didn't even know he was here!"

"That was exactly as he requested, Leslie," Roarke explained to her. "He was here for a short break to recharge his batteries, as he put it. Has he offered you a contract, Major?"

"Well, not as a performer," Patterson said, tucking away the card when Roarke handed it back to him. "He came up to compliment me on my performance, and we got to talking. Turns out he's considering expanding his business and getting a partner. He thought maybe I'd like to get in on the ground floor. So once he works out all the logistics, by then I'll have mustered out of the Air Force, and I'll have a job waiting for me after my discharge."

"Congratulations, Major Patterson, and best of luck," Roarke said warmly, shaking hands. Patterson shook with Leslie, touched his fingertips to the brim of his cap and struck off to board the plane, cheerfully accepting a couple of leis on his way.

"Another happy ending," said Leslie, watching the attendants close the hatch and secure it after Major Patterson. "I just wish there could be that tidy a resolution for Michiko's problems with Cat and ours with Tabitha."

"There is a problem with your friend Tabitha?" Roarke said blankly as the rover that had brought Georgiana Willingham to the plane dock returned to pick them up. Leslie explained the problem concerning Tabitha, her thwarted dream and her reaction to it, and Roarke peered at her oddly. "What has this to do with the rest of you?" he wanted to know.

Leslie snorted with disgust. "It shouldn't, but the way Michiko reacted apparently made Tabitha decide that all the rest of us would agree with her; so she quit speaking to us all, and we didn't know why till we got Michiko to tell us Saturday evening. Michiko's washed her hands of the whole business. She's got enough to deal with as it is, so I guess if we want to keep that friendship from going down the tubes, it's up to the rest of us to make overtures."

"Well, that's for you and your friends to decide," Roarke said, "but I should inform you that I have yet to hear any word of Tabitha's cat shelter. Perhaps she has been given food for thought since she and Michiko had their falling-out." He gave her a significant glance, and she considered it for a moment, hoping it was true.

At the main house, they found Christian on the love seat at the tea table, with Tobias on his lap and Susanna and Karina at his sides, while he read them a storybook. The children tumbled off the seat and rushed their mother and grandfather with happy greetings, and Leslie squatted to give each child a hug. "What's Daddy reading to you?"

"Peter Pan!" Tobias said. "Lots of fights and good stuff. My favorite's when he makes Captain Hook get eaten. Tick-tock, here's the croc!" He lurched away from his mother and lunged across the room, waving one arm as if brandishing a sword. "Take that, Captain Hook! Tick-tock, here's the croc!"

"What?" Leslie said, eyeing Christian.

Christian grinned. "He's quoting the story. I have a feeling we're going to hear a lot of that around the house for a while." He arose as Roarke and Leslie laughed. "So...is there anything you need today, Mr. Roarke?"

Roarke peered oddly at him. "Are you so eager to work, Christian, that you'd prefer to stay here and do those 'go-fer' tasks that Leslie performed in her first years here, rather than going home with your wife and children? It occurs to me that you might wish after all to volunteer as Leslie's assistant while I'm gone. Think about it, Christian; you've had far more of a hand in this business than you seem to realize, even if you are not my direct employee."

Christian stared at him, pondered Roarke's statement, then chuckled in self-deprecation. "Now that you say so, it seems you're right," he said thoughtfully. "But I think my business will be back in operation before it's time for Leslie to take over for you temporarily."

"Oh, I don't know about that," Roarke said, in what Leslie thought might be slightly too casual a tone. "Yesterday afternoon I received an assessment from the exterminators in regard to your shop and what damage was done to the interior. As you are well aware, the defense serum of a tropical stink beetle is extremely potent, and the odor easily penetrates the walls of a building unless it is removed in a timely manner. Since your particular specimen had the chance to taint the entire office area - and, I am given to understand, with a full and very potent dose of spray - you may lose at least a week of business until the odor fades away."

Christian stared at him in horror. "Are you telling me there's no other way to get rid of that stench? And if not, how long will the memory remain? Consider everything I have in there, Mr. Roarke! Is the stink beetle's spray harmful in any other way besides the smell?"

Roarke looked a bit regretful, crossing to the desk and taking his chair. "I haven't heard whether such is the case, Christian, I'm sorry. Perhaps you should get in touch with the exterminators and draw upon their expertise, and report back to me with what you find. If I know exactly what needs to be addressed, I may be able to assist you in rectifying the problem. That, I suppose, might keep you occupied for the day."

"You're quite too helpful, Mr. Roarke," said Christian in a heavily syrupy tone that betrayed his extreme exasperation. "You can rest assured I'll keep you informed. Well, my Rose, let's get the children home. It seems I have some phone calls to make." Leslie snickered and gathered the kids together.

Back at the Enstad house, Christian pulled out his cell phone and began to haggle with the exterminators, sliding unconsciously into his role as prince as he did so and thereby making nice progress with them. Meantime, Leslie set to work in the kitchen providing breakfast for the triplets, who were never awake when she and Roarke went to the plane dock on Monday mornings and thus had to be fed at home. It was a bit of a job because they all preferred different things: Karina wanted either oatmeal, wheat porridge, or jordisk _grömmagraut_, a sort of cream porridge that Ingrid had taught Leslie to make; Susanna always wanted eggs with sausage or, very rarely, bacon; and Tobias insisted on cold cereal, something his cousins in Lilla Jordsö had taught him to like in spite of his parents' hopes that they wouldn't have to waste money on the heavily advertised, heavily sugared children's dry cereals. It looked, they had admitted privately to each other, as if they'd lost that battle. Leslie served Tobias first and set about juggling the simultaneous preparation of eggs, sausage and cooked cereal for the girls; Karina was getting oatmeal this morning.

The phone rang in the middle of all this and she groaned, but Susanna leaped out of her chair, crying, "I'll get it, Mommy!" She still loved to answer the phone, and this time Leslie let her. "Hello, Enstad house," Susanna announced importantly.

After a moment, during which Leslie was able to slide the cooked eggs out of their pan onto Susanna's plate, the little girl exclaimed, "Mommy, it's for you. It's Mrs. Omamara."

"Bring the phone over here, sweetie," Leslie requested. "I'm still cooking." Susanna trotted over and handed her the phone, and she held it in place against her ear by hunching her shoulder. "Hi, Camille, what's up?"

"Hi, Leslie, I was just wondering if you'd had a chance to talk to Christian about this kitten yet. We can't keep her much longer. Harriet knows we've got her, and now she sniffs around our closet all the time, whining her snout off. If you can't take the kitten, I don't know what we can possibly do with her, because I'm not too keen on taking her to Tabitha."

"Oh, the kitten...I keep forgetting," Leslie said, sighing. "Well, can you give us a couple more hours or so? Christian's trying to find out what can be done about the stench in his office so he can reopen for business, and I'm in the middle of cooking the kids' breakfast."

"Okay, I guess that'll work," said Camille humorously. "I'm here all day battling bored kids. Can't wait till school starts next week. Talk to you later."

"Kitten?" Karina exclaimed from the table. "Mommy, are we getting a kitten?"

"I don't know yet, sweetie. I have to talk to Daddy about that," Leslie said, pushing sausages around a pan for Susanna. "Let me finish breakfast and wait till Daddy's done on the phone, and then we'll see."

About ten minutes later, with Susanna and Karina digging into their breakfast and Tobias, already finished, having gone to move dirt around the backyard with a large toy dump truck, Leslie peered over the counter of the passthrough between the living room and kitchen to see what progress Christian had made. He was no longer on the phone; in fact he was deep into writing notes of some sort on a scratch pad, and there was a slight frown on his face. Leslie glanced at the girls, who were making their usual mess but no worse than normally, and left them alone for a moment or two to check on Tobias before turning to her husband. "Christian, what's that?"

"Hm?" He glanced up. "Oh, I'm just trying to write down what the exterminators told me before I forget. I'll have to see Mr. Roarke about something to help air the office out." He jotted down a few more notes as he spoke, and she drifted over to take a look; of course, he was writing in _jordiska_, which she could read, write and speak fairly well now, but in which she would never have the same easy fluency that Christian did with English. As well-versed as Christian was with the latter tongue, he still relied on his native language when he needed to think quickly or if he was trying to do two things at once.

"I suppose they told you it's going to involve one of Father's mysterious concoctions," Leslie said with a grin, sitting beside him. He chuckled and nodded, and she rested her elbows on her knees and leaned forward a bit to see his face. "Listen, my love, that was Camille on the phone. I've meant to ask you all weekend, but with everything else going on, I was constantly forgetting. Camille found a kitten last week, and she's kind of loath to take it to Tabitha, considering what's going on with her. She was wondering if we might want it."

Christian stilled, then turned to look at her. "A kitten? This is a bit sudden, isn't it?"

"I know, it seems that way, but Camille's afraid their dog will get to it - she's already too curious for Camille's peace of mind as it is. Besides, it's not that new. When we went to Lilla Jordsö this spring, the kids fell in love with Anna-Kristina's cats, remember?"

"Oh...yes, that's right, I had forgotten completely." Christian sat for a moment, tapping the end of the pen on the scratch pad. "The trouble is, we spend so much time out of the house, and think about it - next year even more so, because then Ingrid will return home, and the children will be in kindergarten. What will happen then?"

"I'm sure a lot of cats have owners who are constantly away from home. We just need to make sure there's fresh water, and we can assign the litter-box chore to the kids; they can take turns cleaning it. Then you or I can handle the major cleaning once a week, or whatever the recommendation is. Cats are pretty self-sufficient, but then, you should know that."

Christian grinned. "Oh, trust me, I do know. But I might remind you that cats are notorious for clawing things, and they don't always stick to scratching posts. If you can live with that, then I see no reason not to take the kitten in. I can always call my niece and ask her if she has some little trick for training a cat to use the scratching post instead of the furniture."

"Oh, that's great." Leslie hugged him. "I thought it'd take a lot more persuading than that. I guess you're a cat person too."

"I don't know, but maybe becoming a cat owner will grow on me." He chuckled, then grew serious and studied her thoughtfully. "You know, my Rose, you and your friends are going to have to do something about Tabitha eventually, if you don't want to lose her friendship. I realize she's the one who's withdrawn from you, but if you truly want to maintain that friendship, I'm afraid you and the others will have to do the work."

"We know that, but we haven't figured out any way to..." Leslie began, then trailed off as something occurred to her. "Hey, wait a minute...maybe I've got a way. If I call Camille and have her bring the kitten over, maybe she'd be willing to come with me to the Ordoñezes' place and we might be able to use the kitten to start some kind of dialogue with Tabitha."

"Ah - brilliant," Christian said, grinning again. "Use Tabitha's favorite thing as a way to bridge the gap. Well, then, I'll leave you to it while I keep working on this problem with my office. I'm going up to the library to take care of a little business online as well, so if you need me, you can find me there. Or send the children up if you have to."

Leslie grinned and they shared a kiss before he arose and took his scratch pad and cell phone upstairs. She retreated to the kitchen, where now Susanna and Karina had taken their dishes to the sink and gotten engrossed in playing with the water from the faucet. Leslie put a stop to their game, but the moment they were distracted, Susanna asked, "Are we really getting a kitten, Mommy?"

"Looks like it," Leslie said indulgently. "Daddy said it was okay." The girls shrieked in delight, and chattered excitedly at each other all the while Leslie was calling Camille and making arrangements to have her bring the kitten over and then confront Tabitha.

Susanna and Karina ran out back to inform their brother they were about to acquire a cat, which meant that when Camille arrived with the kitten in a covered basket, the little creature immediately had three besotted young admirers all trying to brush each other's hands aside so they could pet it. "Wow," said Camille through a laugh. "That didn't take long. What'd Christian say, is he okay with it?"

"He's fine with it. He's been so used to Anna-Kristina's cats over the years, it didn't take too much to persuade him. You know, I had an idea. Christian said he'd consult Anna-Kristina, but I think it could be a good idea to use the kitten to see if we can get through to Tabitha. Are you willing to come along? Two's better than one, you know."

Camille frowned, thinking about it. "Well, I guess so. Listen, why don't we bring the kids. I know it doesn't seem very likely, but if they start talking about the kitten..."

"That could work," Leslie agreed. "Let me tell Christian and grab my purse, and I'll be right back out."

A few minutes later, Camille, Leslie, the triplets and the kitten were all on the way to the Ordoñez house. Camille and Leslie talked a little along the way, but let the children do most of the chattering; their talk revolved entirely around the kitten, whose basket Leslie held on her lap. Shortly they arrived, and Camille parked in front of the house and led the charge up the front walk. Cristina and Ramón were playing with their eighteen-month-old brother Rafael out front, and Cristina, now eleven and about to begin sixth grade, got to her feet, motioning seven-year-old Ramón to stay put. "Did you come to see Mama?" she called.

"That we did," said Leslie. "She's not busy, is she?"

"She's never busy anymore," Cristina said scornfully, surprising both Leslie and Camille, who shot each other surprised glances. "All she does is sit in her room. She leaves me to do almost everything around the house. She won't even feed her cats."

"Oh boy," Camille muttered. "We might've come to the wrong place after all."

"Well, hold on a second," Leslie murmured back and turned her full attention to Cristina. "Tell me, is your mother sick?"

"No, she's pregnant," said Cristina flatly. "And she wishes she wasn't. I'm mad at her, because she talked about wishing something would happen so she wouldn't have to have the baby, and this could be my last chance to have a little sister."

Camille snickered, and Leslie managed to repress a smile. "Hmm, I see. Well, it sounds to me like your mom needs someone to talk to. Is it okay if we go in and see her?"

"Sure, go right in," said Cristina. "I have to make sure the cats have fresh water anyway." She led the way into the house; Karina, Tobias and Susanna elected to stay outside and play with Ramón and Rafael, while Cristina pointed the way toward Tabitha's bedroom and veered off to the kitchen to tend to the Ordoñez felines' water dishes.

Camille and Leslie, still bearing the basket, found the door to the room firmly closed, and traded one more glance before Camille tapped on it. "Hey, open up," she said. "It's Camille and Leslie, and it's about time you came out of your cave, Mama Bear."

There was no response, and Leslie used her knuckles to knock a little harder. "Tabitha, come on," she said. "Enough's enough."

The third time, Camille thudded her fist on the door. "Open up or we're busting in!" Leslie gave her an astonished look, and she shrugged. "Hey, if it works for the cops..."

Before Leslie could respond, the door cracked open and they saw a bloodshot eye peer out. "So it's you two. Well, go away. I refuse to speak to any one of you."

"Is that so?" demanded Leslie, who was just about fed up by now. "Well, we've got something to say about that, and you're not allowed to just shut us out without at least explaining to us what we did to earn this animosity out of left field. Open the door so we can talk."

After a moment, Tabitha finally opened the door enough to let them in. Camille and Leslie wrinkled their noses; the room had a musty-sweet smell, and its windows were covered with light-blocking curtains and blinds. The bed was unmade and clothes lay strewn around the room. Camille clucked her tongue in annoyance and turned on a lamp on the dresser. "Wow, what a mess. Poor Fernando has to sleep in here, doesn't he?"

"He refuses," Tabitha said, glaring at her. "He's been sleeping on the sofa lately."

"I'm not surprised," Camille retorted. "It smells weird in here. What in heck is the matter with you? This I'm-not-talking-to-you stuff reeks of third-grade playground feuds. We're pretty sick of it, especially since we don't know what we did to deserve this treatment. So sit down and start talking."

Leslie pushed the curtains aside to let in some sunlight, making Tabitha squint. "Come on, Tabitha. Cristina told us you're pregnant and you don't want to be. I can see where it might upset you - I mean, we're all at an age now where we've lost interest in having any more babies - but when it happens, that doesn't mean it's the end of the world."

"It's the end of my world," Tabitha shot back, sounding angry and wounded all at once. "I didn't want another baby. I thought I was done having kids and I could finally get on with my dream about a cat shelter. This little beast I've got inside me is changing my life yet again. When in the world am I going to have my turn?"

"Why can't you have your cat shelter when you're pregnant?"Leslie asked. She and Camille knew the answers to these questions already, but they were hoping to draw Tabitha out.

"Because Fernando refuses to let me," Tabitha said, sitting down so hard on the bed that she bounced two or three times. "He says I'm going to make myself and the baby sick from being around all those cats, and we might have a severely allergic child from the exposure, and of course all that stuff about anaphylactic shock from changing litter boxes. I think he just doesn't want me opening the shelter. But we need one. I saw in the newspaper that a dog shelter is opening down near the ferry terminal. We need equal time for cats."

"Speaking of cats," Leslie said, opening the basket, "Camille found this one near her house. Christian and I are going to keep her, but we thought maybe you could give us a little advice, since you know so much about cats." She handed Tabitha the basket.

"Don't let Fernando catch you letting me handle a cat," Tabitha said sarcastically, taking the kitten out of the basket and smoothing its fur a couple of times before examining it. The little creature looked a bit startled, but was quiet in Tabitha's hands, staring around the room. "You were right that it's a female. I'd say about seven weeks old, poor little thing. I wonder what happened to its mother. You see?" She looked up. "This is a perfect reason for needing a cat shelter."

"Okay, great - we need a cat shelter, and you want to fill that need," Camille said. "But just because Fernando's being overly cautious, that doesn't mean you should blame that unborn baby you're carrying around. Were you planning to run the shelter entirely on your own, or did you intend to get some help? Because you don't necessarily have to work directly with the cats as long as you're pregnant. You can stick to the administrative stuff till the baby's born, and then you can get back to working right with the cats."

Tabitha sighed. "I don't know anything about the administrative part. The whole idea was for me to work with the cats and take care of them."

"Well, you won't get too far without administrative help," Leslie pointed out. "Plus, you haven't even approached Father about the subject. He hasn't said anything about a cat shelter at all, much less having you ask him about it. Think about it - it sounds as if you were just about to launch the whole thing when you found out you were pregnant. Which I presume means that it's all still just on paper, and you're the only one who's even involved as yet."

Tabitha scowled. "Well, when Fernando told me I was pregnant and said the cat shelter would have to wait, I didn't see any reason to start approaching people."

"How much planning have you done?" Leslie asked.

Tabitha reached under the bed and drew out a legal pad, handing it to her; she had made a couple of pages of detailed notes, which impressed Leslie. "Okay, so I see you've at least got a blueprint," she murmured. "That's good. But if you're more or less immobilized because of the pregnancy, that doesn't mean you have to stop working on the project entirely. You're going to have to have a lot of other people on board before you can even come to Father asking if there's a building on the island that would make a good shelter. You'll have to have funding from somewhere, and people to obtain cages and food and litter and all the other stuff cats would need, and you'll need staff - caretakers, fundraisers, administrators, maybe a secretary, and probably an on-site vet. Nick's the only vet on the island and I don't think he'd have time to spare for the cat shelter, so you'd be better off getting a vet just for the shelter. The point here is, Tabitha, you can work on all this stuff during your pregnancy. It may not take the whole nine months, but it'll certainly eat up a nice healthy portion of that - at least the first trimester and maybe the second one too."

Tabitha was staring at her; Camille grinned. "There, you see? Who says your dream's dead?"

For a moment the room was silent while Tabitha absently stroked the kitten's head; then she blinked, seemed to come to, and handed the kitten to Leslie. "She might as well get used to you if she's going to live at your house," she said, her voice thoughtful. Leslie, cradling and stroking the kitten, and Camille waited while Tabitha pondered their words. At last she looked up and smiled - a small, halfhearted smile, but a smile all the same. "Your words make sense, Leslie," she said softly. "I guess you're right - I didn't think it all the way through. I had no idea I was going to need all that. Not that I'm going to let it stop me. I know I can get all those people together. I can just advertise in the _Chronicle_. But thanks for making me see what it'll really take." She pulled in a breath and played with a loose thread on the bedspread. "I've been alienating everybody, haven't I? You girls, Fernando, even my kids."

Camille grinned. "Yeah, well, Cristina let it be known she was pretty resentful."

The girls laughed, and Leslie nuzzled the kitten, which by now was purring. "I'm glad we could help. Why don't you get yourself dressed and come out of your cave, and air the place out while you're at it. I have a feeling some cats miss you, not to mention a few kids."

Tabitha cast a relieved smile at her. "I will, and thanks, Leslie. You too, Camille. Is there anything else you need to know in regard to the kitten?"

"Not really...she was just an excuse to come down here and talk you out of the burrow. But thanks for confirming we've got a female here. At least that way the triplets can come up with appropriate names." Tabitha giggled and hugged them both, then promised them she'd see them later, and sent them back feeling much better about everything.


	7. Chapter 7

§ § § - September 2, 2008

Leslie was distinctly surprised when Michiko showed up on her doorstep on the Tuesday constituting the first day of school on Fantasy Island. "Well, fancy meeting you here," she said, letting her friend in. "Are you here checking up on your house?" The construction was well under way now, and Christian and Leslie had almost gotten used to the constant noise emanating from the lot next door.

"No, it's not that," Michiko said, following Leslie into the kitchen where the breakfast dishes still littered the table and Christian was brewing a second pot of coffee. "I took Cat to her first day of school here - just got back - and all the way she was complaining about having to sit in classes with commoners, and not be able to get special attention from tutors as she did in Arcolos, and having to go to a public school building like the unwashed masses. I got so fed up I scolded her half the way to school, and neither of us was very happy with the other by the time I left her there. So I brought Mama-san's car over here for a while. It's not as if I have much else to do, after all."

By this time Christian had turned around and was curiously studying Michiko from the kitchen counter farthest from the foyer. "That sounded rather accusing."

Michiko started and gaped at him, as if she hadn't realized he was in the room till just then. "Ohmigod, you scared me. Why would I sound accusing?"

Christian smiled and said kindly, "It just sounded to me as if you thought Leslie should have come up with something for you to do. I thought you really enjoyed that fantasy a couple of weekends ago when you were helping all those amateur singers."

"Oh, that." Michiko smiled crookedly. "I never did get around to telling anyone, I guess. The recording-studio head got wind of what I did that weekend and said something about how he thought I should try opening some kind of singing school, or at least offering voice lessons from home. I'm still thinking that over, but I do like the thought. I haven't sung much for a long time, and I had a lot of fun helping Diana Lind in particular."

"Then you should definitely go for it," Leslie said. "Maybe you can conduct lessons out of the theater in town till you're able to make other arrangements. But back to the subject at hand...your daughter. That sounds like quite the royal little temper tantrum."

"It was," Michiko said, sighing heavily.

Christian chuckled. "It certainly was, wasn't it? If she keeps that up, she'll be taken down a few dozen pegs in no time at all. At the very least, she'll find herself ostracized and pointed at as that insufferable snob who thinks she's too good for everyone else."

"I'd hate to see her go through that," Michiko fretted.

Leslie began clearing the table. "Well, this might sound kind of cruel, but there's bound to be some kind of change. I know at heart Cat really wants to fit in, to belong. I mean, she has to; what else would explain how much she wants to go back to Arcolos where she thinks she really belongs? But once it settles in for her that she's here to stay, she's going to want to make a place for herself and find some friends. I've got a funny feeling that won't take as long as you're afraid it might. Let's face it, first-grade kids don't have much of a sense of hierarchy. I mean, sure, you're going to have your bullies and your outgoing kids and your shy kids, but there's just not the sense of permanent slotting into niches that you get in the high-school caste system. If she doesn't keep pretending she's several levels above everybody else, she'll make some friends eventually, and she'll settle down and readjust. She's young, Michiko. It'll take time, but I don't think it's going to be all that long before she realizes she has to change her attitude pretty quick or else suffer the consequences."

"So you think I should let her go through all this...attitude business, without interfering, or even talking to her about it," said Michiko, glancing back and forth between Leslie and Christian.

"Well, I think so anyway," Leslie said.

"I do as well," Christian concurred, glancing over his shoulder at his little coffeemaker. "As Leslie said, Cat's young enough that she really doesn't know that much differently about how school operates in the world at large. She simply happened to spend her first few years in the kind of rarefied atmosphere that doesn't exist in the rest of the world anymore, not even in the other remaining monarchies. My siblings and I all attended public schools from the time we were old enough to go. Granted, they were exclusive schools for the upper strata of society, but we went to school outside the castle nonetheless. It wasn't always a happy experience for us, but we all survived." He grinned. "Cat will too, you'll see. Give her about a week and then see what sort of attitude she has. Even if she still isn't talking to you, at least you can eavesdrop on her chatting with your mother about her days in school."

Leslie paused on her way back to the table for more dishes and squeezed her friend's shoulder. "I know you're anxious about Cat, but the funny thing is that school will be the biggest drain on her time and the thing that occupies her the most, and at some point her attitude's going to change, for whatever reasons. What you have to do is take care of yourself. You can't spend every second going bananas over what's happening to Cat. Don't neglect yourself and your own well-being and the things you want for _you_. If you want to give singing lessons, by all means, go ahead and do it. You'll have something to occupy your days other than just checking up on operations in your charity offices, and you'll feel better. If you want, once your house is done, you can conduct those lessons right in your own living room. And you know we keep telling you you're always welcome to come over here if you need a crying shoulder."

Michiko smiled. "Why do you think I showed up here this morning?" she riposted, and they all laughed. "So...on to something happier. That coffee smells good, Christian. So have you finally had the chance to reopen your offices?"

"Just last Friday," Christian said, rolling his eyes. "Let me know if you want a cup. Unfortunately we've found that business has fallen off a bit. We can still smell the remnants of that horrific stench in there, and I sometimes wonder if it will ever go away. We all brought air fresheners of every imaginable kind - spray cans, plug-in wall units, the fragrant candles, even those odd scented lumps that shrink away as they release their smells - yet somehow we can still detect that stench. And so can every potential customer who walks in the door." He shook his head in disgust and set two mugs on the counter. "I even went so far as to give Myeko a story about the whole stupid incident to put in the paper, so that the islanders and the guests could understand what had happened and that it wasn't our fault, but it didn't matter. At this rate we may have to change buildings, or else move into the town square perhaps, and set up an open-air tent next to the wishing well."

"You actually let Myeko write a newspaper piece about it?" Michiko asked, astonished, sitting at the table as Leslie removed the last of the dishes from it. "Weren't you afraid the news wires would pick it up and distribute it all over the world, so that everybody on earth would get a good laugh at your expense?"

Christian snorted and began to pour out coffee, while Leslie loaded the dishwasher, listening in with a grin. "It crossed my mind, but I was tired of constantly telling the damned story to everyone who asked - and everyone _did _ask. I figured it would be worth the risk of putting myself out there as the butt of jokes for a few weeks or so."

Leslie and Michiko both laughed, and Christian took a chair at the table, handing Michiko one of the mugs. She thanked him and sipped, smiled in appreciation and studied Leslie. "So when does Mr. Roarke leave you in charge of the resort?"

"This coming weekend," Leslie said, heaving a sigh. "I still haven't started searching for an assistant." She paused and focused on Michiko. "If you're still waffling about the voice lessons and you think you're up to the job, maybe you'd like to help me out."

Michiko giggled. "It sounds like fun, actually. Are you still going to use the triplets for go-fers?" They all laughed. "I have a feeling you should take on at least two other people, though. And you know, Christian, if your business is suffering that much, you might be looking for ways to kill your extra time. Leslie mentioned in passing that she wanted you to be in on the business too."

Christian made a face and said slowly, "I don't know. Maybe I will, if the slack in my business doesn't pick up by then. I've already suggested that Anton take his vacation time, and Taro decided to do the same thing, which was helpful in keeping the others occupied. But lately I've noticed Darius playing Spider Solitaire at his desk for long stretches when no one comes in and the phone doesn't ring. I hope things change soon."

"I guess he doesn't want to be part of the fantasy business after all, Leslie," MIchiko said, smirking. "At least he can make himself useful watching the triplets."

Leslie laughed, started the dishwasher and took a third chair. "It's really up to him, but in the meantime I'm trying to figure out how to go about this. Father said he'd see to it that everything I needed was set up, and all I had to do was put the guest into whatever situation he or she wanted for the weekend and everything would trigger automatically. I just hope there aren't any unanticipated glitches. I mean, I can probably handle irate guests who thought their fantasies were supposed to be perfect and flawless, but if some magical property or another decides to backfire, there won't be a thing I can do about it. I can't even call on Rogan for backup, because he's going with Father, wherever that may be."

"Then you should ask Mr. Roarke for detailed instructions, my Rose," Christian said. "I do know one thing - he must truly trust you, to leave you in charge for such a stretch. And with all the help you're undoubtedly going to be offered, I have a feeling you don't have much to worry about."

Leslie smirked. "Well, we'll see about that. In the meantime, I think it's time for me to figure out how I'm going to recruit my other assistants." She blew out a breath and rested her chin in her hand. "Wish me luck - I'm probably going to need it."

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><p><em>Stay tuned for the next installment in this mini-saga...I'll be posting as soon as I have something worth reading, I promise!<em>


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